The Right Place at the Right Time
by Deana
Summary: One of the Heroes suffers a medical emergency...but sometimes, a bad thing can happen for a good reason...
1. Oww

The Right Place at the Right Time  
A Hogan's Heroes story  
By Deana Lisi  
I don't own any Hogan's Heroes character. Bummer.

***************

Hogan glanced behind himself towards the door of barracks two, relieved when he saw Kinch quickly run out and dash into his place in line.

Schultz hadn't noticed yet that he hadn't come out with the others, and continued to count, unaware that a piece of paper was being passed through the men, on its way to Hogan's hands. When it got to Newkirk, he accidentally dropped it.

Hogan heard the Englishman's sudden intake of breath, and saw the paper roll out in front of them. He quickly bent down and picked it up, sticking it into his pocket just as Colonel Klink came out of his office.

Everyone held their breath, unsure if the Kommandant had seen.

"What is going on here!" Klink exclaimed, heading towards them.

No one spoke; fear filling the chest of each POW.

"What do you mean, Herr Kommandant?" Schultz asked.

"Schultz!" Klink exclaimed. "Is everyone accounted for?"

The guard looked puzzled. "Yes, I counted _every_ single prisoner!" he answered.

"Well count them again!" Klink said, rushing past them and going towards the barracks. "This door is open! One of them could have run back in and escaped out the window after you counted!"

Each POW breathed a collective sigh of relief, though Kinch inwardly kicked himself for accidentally leaving it open in his haste to join the roll call.

Schultz gasped and quickly turned, recounting everyone before sighing with relief himself. "No, Herr Kommandant, every prisoner is still here!"

"Good," said Klink, strolling back over. He stood in front of Hogan. "You should teach your men to close doors! What is the American phrase…'do you live in a shed'?"

Hogan grinned. "It's 'do you live in a barn'. Sorry, sir. I guess everyone was just so excited to come out here and see your smiling face."

Klink went, "Mpfh!" and walked back towards his office.

The prisoners broke formation and went back inside, where Hogan took out the crumbled piece of paper and opened it.

"Sorry about that, Colonel…" Newkirk said, referring to dropping the paper.

Hogan waved-off his apology, knowing that it had been an accident. "London wants us to bomb a bridge two miles south of here tonight."

"Great!" Carter exclaimed. "I have the perfect explosives for it!"

"Don't you always," LeBeau said, with a smile.

Hogan nodded at Carter and looked at his watch. "We leave in an hour…we can be there and back before lights out." With that, he headed to his quarters. Crossing to the wall under his top bunk, he pulled away a piece of wood and took out a map. Walking over to his table, he spread it out, before hearing a sudden knock on his door. "Come in," he called. When it opened, he glanced over to see who it was. "Newkirk?" he said, before bending over the map.

The Englishman came in and closed the door behind himself. "Colonel…" he said. "Do ya mind if I sit this one out?"

Hogan looked at him again, wondering if he'd heard wrong. "Sit this one out? The mission?"

Newkirk gave him a wry expression.

The colonel stood up straight with a puzzled frown, suddenly noticing that the Englishman looked pale and had a pinched look, as if he were in pain of some sort. "What's wrong?"

Newkirk approached the bottom bunk—slowly—and sat on it, wearily raising a hand to his eyes. "Me 'ead's throbbin' like it 'as its own 'eartbeat," he said. "It feels like someone's stabbin' it with me lockpick when I stand, sit, bend over...." He sighed. "In other words, whenever I bloody _move_…that's why I dropped the paper out there. I'd never make it out the ruddy _tunnel_ like this, nevermind walkin' two miles…"

Hogan frowned with concern; for Newkirk to admit to being in enough pain to prevent him from carrying out a mission, it had to be _bad_. He quickly sat beside him on the bunk and put a hand on the corporal's forehead to check him for fever.

"I'm not sick, guv," Newkirk said. "This 'as 'appened before."

Hogan removed his hand. "What causes it?" he asked, bewildered.

Newkirk shrugged. "They call it a 'migraine'."

"Have you seen a doctor for it?"

"Once. Said they don't really know what causes 'em, an' ta take aspirin when it 'appens."

"So why didn't you…oh." Hogan realized that they'd run out of aspirin a month prior when a cold had run through the barracks.

"Usually I take some when I feel one comin' on," Newkirk told him. "An' they prevent it from gettin' too bad, an' sometimes they'll even make it go right away…" Suddenly, he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, fisting his hand in the hair on the left side of his head.

Hogan, alarmed, grabbed his arm. "Newkirk?"

The Englishman inhaled again and held it for a few seconds, before letting it out shakily. He opened his eyes again, before closing them halfway. "Ow," he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

"Lie down," Hogan told him, pushing on his shoulder. "I'll check with the other barracks to see if anyone has any aspirin."

Newkirk obeyed. "Thanks."

Hogan stood and crossed to his door, quickly leaving and spotting his other three men sitting at the table. "Fellas," he said. "Anyone have any aspirin?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Have a headache, sir?" Carter asked.

Hogan shook his head. "No, Newkirk does; a real doozy. Did any of you know that he gets migraines?"

The three men looked at each other.

"_I've _known," Carter said, frowning.

LeBeau looked insulted. "How would you know if _I_ didn't?" he asked, having been at the Stalag just as long as Newkirk had.

"I saw him holding his head one day as if it really hurt," Carter told him. "He said it's happened to him for years and aspirin helps if he takes it quick."

"What exactly is a 'migraine'?" LeBeau asked, not even really sure.

"A throbbing-real-bad headache that hits a person on one side of their head," Carter explained. "Movement, light, and sound make it worse, and it can even make the eyes hurt or see funny things. It can even upset the stomach. Sometimes, it can go from one side of the head right to the other."

The three men stared at him.

"What?" Carter blinked. "I know stuff _too_ you know!"

"You mean Newkirk _described_ it to you," said LeBeau, half-jokingly.

Carter gave him a sheepish look. "Well, that too."

Hogan shook his head. He would've chuckled if he didn't have a man in severe pain in the next room. "You three run to the other barracks and hunt down some aspirin. Anyone else in here have any?" he asked the other residents of Barracks Two.

Everyone shook their heads, and Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch headed out.

Hogan went back into his room, seeing that Newkirk had thrown an arm over his eyes. He remembered what Carter had said about light making the pain worse, and the fact that Newkirk hadn't even gotten up to turn it off himself showed how badly he was hurting. Hogan quickly shut it off, switching on the small desk-lamp on his table and angling it away from the bunk. "Newkirk?" he said.

"Humm?" the corporal mumbled.

"The guys are hunting down some aspirin. Is there anything else we can do?"

Newkirk tried to smile, but was too busy trying not to grimace from the pain. "No, guv. Thanks."

Hogan sat in the chair near his table, hoping one of the guys would succeed in finding what Newkirk needed so badly.

A few minutes later, the three men rushed into the room. Carter triumphantly waved around what he was holding. He handed Hogan a matchbox, which contained six of the pills. LeBeau likewise had six, and Kinch had the jackpot, with ten.

Carter went over to the bunk and sat on it. "Newkirk?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

The Englishman moved his arm and cracked open an eye. "Yeah."

"We found twenty-two aspirins for you, boy! Enough for you to take _eleven_ times!"

"I think I'm gonna need 'em _all_," Newkirk said, wincing as he slowly sat himself up. It apparently wasn't slow enough, for the stabbing throbs increased once he was upright, making his whole body flinch. He gasped and held his head.

"LeBeau, get some water," Hogan said, taking two of the pills out of the matchbox.

Carter, still on the bed, grasped Newkirk's arm to keep him steady, and was surprised to feel it shaking slightly. Like he'd said, he knew about Newkirk's migraines, but he never saw one of them get _this_ bad…probably because they always had a supply of aspirin when Newkirk needed them.

LeBeau quickly came back with a glass, and they watched as Newkirk swallowed the pills, handing the glass back and covering his left eye with his hand. He squinted at them with just his right eye. "Thanks." He laid down again and took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.

"Here, mon ami," said LeBeau. "Maybe this will help." He reached forward and placed a wet cloth over the Englishman's eyes and forehead.

Newkirk reached up and adjusted it. "Oh, that's great, Louis. Thanks."

"Is there anything else you need?" asked Kinch, wishing he could contribute in some way.

"No," Newkirk replied. "Just some quiet."

"Well, you'll definitely get more of that in here than out _there_," said Hogan. "Come on, guys," he said, taking a step towards the door.

"Colonel," Newkirk suddenly said.

They turned around to see him struggling to sit up. Hogan reached out and stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "What are you _doing_?"

"I didn't mean ta throw ya out of ya own room," Newkirk said. He winced as his sudden motion increased the throbbing in his head. "I can…rest…in me own bunk," he said, his voice tight.

"No," Hogan said. "Stay right there. You're not throwing me out; I was going to head into the tunnel anyway and make sure everything is set for the mission."

"The mission!" Carter exclaimed. "How is he supposed to—"

"He's not coming," Hogan said.

Newkirk frowned, trying to sit up again. "Maybe I _should_," he said, suddenly nervous about _not_ going. "I don't like the idea of not bein' there in case—"

"Nothing will go wrong," Hogan said, applying more pressure to Newkirk's shoulder to stop him from moving.

Newkirk relaxed against the pillow, looking troubled now. "I shouldn't've said anythin'," he replied, even as he put a hand on his head and closed his eyes in response to the increased throbbing.

"We can all see that you'd never make it," Kinch cut in. "If you came anyway, like _that_, you could be a liability to us."

"Just rest," said Hogan. "That's an _order_. We'll be back before you know it. "

Newkirk sighed. "Good luck, then. Carter?"

"Yeah, Newkirk?"

The Englishman moved his hand and peered out from under it. "Grow eyes on the back of yer 'ead. I won' be there ta keep an eye on ya."

Carter smiled. "Don't worry, buddy. This'll be a piece of pie."

The American sergeant's words had the desired effect. "Cake, Andrew," Newkirk answered. "Cake."

Carter nodded. "That too!"

Newkirk managed to smile slightly, and watched as they left the room. He sighed again and raised both hands to his head, having forced himself not to outwardly show his pain too much. He hadn't had a migraine this bad in a long time, having always had aspirin on hand to halt its progression. He hoped that it wouldn't get any worse than it was now…though he knew that he might've taken the aspirin too late for it to do any good…

TBC


	2. Is There a Doctor in the House?

Hogan, Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch—taking Newkirk's place on the mission—traipsed through the woods, quickly spanning the two-mile distance.

Carter took out his explosives and handed some off to Kinch and LeBeau, who ran off to one end while he and Hogan went to the other. Planting them went smoothly, and all four men met up at a planned rendezvous point, before Carter connected the wires and pushed the lever, sending the bridge miles into the night sky in a million pieces.

After that, they quickly ran off, mentally celebrating yet another success. Once they reached the Stalag again, they quickly changed out of their black clothes.

Carter looked at his watch. "It's been three hours…do you think Newkirk feels better?"

LeBeau shrugged. "He got his aspirin, so he _should_."

Quickly, they climbed back up into the barracks, all four men heading for Hogan's quarters, to check on their friend. The colonel grasped the door handle and made a 'shh' gesture to the others, before soundlessly opening it. What they found wasn't what they'd hoped for.

Newkirk lay curled on his right side, arms encircling his head, still in obvious pain.

The four men walked inside the room quietly, not knowing if he was asleep. They got their answer when Newkirk's body suddenly uncurled and he lowered his arms.

"Everyone okay, then?" he asked.

"We're all fine, but what about you!" Carter asked, worried.

Newkirk opened his eyes and squinted at them. "I'm doin' better, mate. The mission go all right?"

Everyone nodded.

"You should've seen it!" said Carter, excitedly. "The bridge went up like the Fourth of July!" His expression suddenly changed. "Oh, you're probably _glad_ you didn't see it. The sound would've hurt your head too much."

Newkirk smiled slightly.

Hogan looked at his watch. "Lights-out is in twenty minutes. You three go get ready for bed before Schultz gets here."

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch nodded and headed for the door.

"Somethin' ya wanna discuss, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, noticing the 'three'.

Hogan looked at him. "Yeah, your incredible acting skill. The others believe that you're better, but _I_ don't."

At that, Newkirk dropped the act…accidentally. He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face before he could stop himself. "I 'aven't 'ad one this bad since before the war," he admitted, his voice sounding muffled behind his hands.

Hogan sighed. "You can sleep there tonight," he said. "I'm not cruel enough to make you get up."

Newkirk's pride couldn't even get in the way of this horrid headache. "Thanks, guv. I don't snore."

Hogan smiled and changed into his pajamas. "You plan to sleep in your uniform, then?"

"I 'ave no choice," Newkirk said, the pain showing in his voice. "If I get up, I don't think I'll be standin' for very long..."

Hogan sighed, extremely concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Besides knock me out? No," Newkirk answered, miserably.

"How about more aspirins?" Hogan said. He took them off the table and fetched a glass of water, before sitting on the side of the bunk. "Can you drink sideways?"

Newkirk smiled slightly at the question, before taking the pills and popping them into his mouth.

Hogan helped with the glass, ensuring that Newkirk didn't lift his head. Some of the water spilled onto the pillow, but despite lying on his side, Newkirk was able to drink enough of the water to swallow the pills.

Hogan put the glass down before hopping up to his top bunk. "Try to sleep, Newkirk…if you need anything, don't hesitate to wake me."

"Thanks, guv," Newkirk said with a sigh. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Fine' was the understatement of the war.

Newkirk didn't really fall asleep…he tried, but his migraine refused to allow him. About four hours after lights-out, the pain grew to unbearable limits. He grasped his head and curled into a ball, his body shaking from the intensity. He'd somehow succeeded in preventing himself from groaning, not wanting to wake the room's other occupant, but he couldn't hold it in any longer. He'd had no intentions on waking Hogan…until now. Though he had no idea what the colonel could possibly do, he just couldn't take it anymore. "Colonel," he said, barely a whisper. With another groan, he took a shuddering breath and tried to talk louder. "Colonel!"

Hogan instantly woke, sitting up and blinking, not sure what he'd heard.

"Colonel…" Newkirk said again, with a gasp.

Hogan quickly jumped off the top bunk, reaching for his table lamp and switching it on before bending over the bottom bunk. "Newkirk?" he said, instantly noticing that the corporal's face was sheet-white under a sheen of sweat. Newkirk's eyes were tightly closed, and his body visibly trembled. Extremely alarmed, Hogan sat on the side of the bunk and grasped the Englishman's arm.

"Colonel," Newkirk said, breathing heavily. "Help?" His voice shook.

Hogan's heart leaped into his throat. For such a plea to come from someone like Newkirk, the pain had to be debilitating. Standing, he quickly grabbed a towel and the pitcher that still sat on the table, quickly wetting it before patting it over the corporal's face to wipe away the sweat. "I'm here, Newkirk," he said. "I'm here."

The Englishman groaned again, squirming.

Hogan patted his arm, trying to comfort him in any way that he could, nervously beginning to wonder if it _wasn't_ a migraine after all, but something more serious. He didn't know much about migraines, and had no idea if such terrible pain could be normal. "Newkirk?" he asked. "Do you have any other symptoms?"

Newkirk said nothing, seeming unable to speak. Instead, he sucked in a pained breath and suddenly reached out to grasp Hogan's wrist, squeezing it tightly.

Hogan was slightly startled, but didn't pull away. Not able to see his watch with Newkirk's hand covering it, he looked towards the window to try to figure out what time it was. He saw that it was still pitch-dark, with no indication that dawn was approaching.

Newkirk suddenly gasped again, and made a sound that could only be described as a whimper, before squeezing Hogan's wrist once more.

"Take it easy, Newkirk," Hogan said, patting his arm. "Take it easy." The words seemed ridiculous to his ears, but he didn't know what else to do. Sticking the towel right into the pitcher this time, he patted his friend's face and forehead with it again, hoping that the coldness would provide some relief…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Just after dawn rose, Schultz was abruptly woken by one of the night guards. Startled, he quickly sat up and stared at the man. "Was ist los!" he exclaimed.

"There is something amiss in Barracks Two, Sergeant," said the man. "Colonel Hogan came out and demanded that we wake you immediately!"

Schultz looked at his watch and quickly got up, knowing that something had to be very wrong for Hogan to do something like that. Ala Klink, he put on his robe and boots and dashed out of the room. He hurried to the barracks and opened the door, finding all the men still asleep. Quietly, he went over to Hogan's door and opened it.

What he saw inside made him frown with concern.

Hogan was crouched beside the bottom bunk, grasping Newkirk's shoulder, who lay facing him. Schultz was shocked to see that the corporal appeared to be suffering immense pain, judging by his gasps and groans, and terribly pale face…nevermind the fact that he was squeezing Hogan's wrist in a death-grip.

"What happened!" Schultz exclaimed, hurrying forward.

"Wake Klink," Hogan told him, rather than answer. "Newkirk needs to see a doctor, fast!"

"Jawohl!" Schultz replied, forgetting to speak English. He ran back out the door and high-tailed it to Klink's quarters, where he woke him in the same fashion that the guard had woken _him_.

"What is it!" Klink exclaimed, sitting up.

"Kommandant, something is very wrong with Corporal Newkirk!" Schultz explained. "He needs a doctor right away!"

"What?" Klink said, fumbling with his blankets, still half asleep. He stumbled around his room looking for his boots, and within a minute, he and the sergeant were hurrying back to the barracks…both men dressed in the same hilarious outfit, though Klink, at least, had grabbed his hat.

"Hogan!" Klink exclaimed. "If this is some kind of trick to escape—!" He stopped at the sight of the Englishman curled up on the bed, pale and looking in absolute agony.

"Colonel," Hogan exclaimed, ignoring the tirade. "Newkirk needs to get to a hospital!"

Klink just stared, realizing that it wasn't a ruse. "What happened to him?"

Hogan sighed. "He said it's a migraine…but this doesn't look normal to _me_! It could even be something contagious!" he said, knowing that if nothing _else_ worked on Klink, _that_ would.

Klink paled, himself. "Schultz, get a car and take Newkirk to the hospital in Hammelburg!"

Schultz nodded and ran out the door.

TBC


	3. Thank God for Schultz

Within minutes, Schultz had changed into his uniform and brought the car to the door of the barracks. Some of the prisoners had woken, and stood around nervously, worried about their friend.

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch hovered around the bed, distressed to find that Newkirk had grown worse overnight instead of better.

"Do not worry, mon ami," LeBeau said, gently patting Newkirk's hair. "They will give you something for the pain and you will be fine!"

The Englishman didn't respond…he couldn't even open his eyes.

Carter was beside himself. He considered Newkirk to be his best friend, and he was very scared. "Can I come too, Colonel?" he asked.

Hogan pulled on his jacket and zipped it, with a sigh. "I was lucky enough to get Klink to let _me_ go, Carter. If anyone else tries to come, he'll think the whole thing is a ruse so we can escape."

Carter sighed. "Yeah."

Kinch went over and put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We'll hold down the fort, Colonel. Stay with Newkirk as long as you can."

Hogan nodded.

Schultz came in with a stretcher, and they carefully placed Newkirk on it, their hearts breaking with each gasp and groan that their friend couldn't stifle. Suddenly, the Englishman grabbed Carter's arm, and somehow managed to find enough strength to speak. "I'll…be okay…don't…worry…mate."

Carter had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could answer. "I'll try, but I don't think I'll succeed."

Newkirk let go, and they carried him out and placed him on the backseat. Hogan climbed in the other side and placed Newkirk's head on his lap, knowing that the ride would be rough for him.

Schultz drove off, driving fast but trying to avoid bumps at the same time.

Newkirk bit his lip to avoid groaning. He couldn't believe a 'mere' migraine was doing this to him.

Hogan kept a tight grip on the Englishman, ensuring that he wouldn't fall off the seat during one of Schultz's wild turns. The car suddenly went over a pothole that the German had been unable to miss, and Hogan felt the tension in Newkirk's body abruptly melt away, realizing with shock that the Englishman had passed out.

It took less than twenty minutes to reach the hospital, and Schultz ran inside to get help—never thinking that it _could_ be a ruse and Hogan and Newkirk might be gone when he came out. Two orderlies rushed out the doors with a gurney, and Hogan and Schultz carefully pulled Newkirk out of the car and placed him on it, following as the men rolled it back inside.

"I know a good doctor," Schultz whispered to Hogan. "He tends to my children when they need it. He is not as…mean…as others here, regarding non-Germans. I called ahead before we left the Stalag, and requested him for Newkirk."

Hogan was immensely relieved to hear that, and some of his anxiety left. He'd been so afraid of German doctors abusing the 'English prisoner', that it had been a struggle to decide on having him taken to the hospital or not. "Thanks, Schultz. You have no idea how much I appreciate it…and Newkirk will too."

Schultz smiled.

The orderlies wheeled the patient into an examination room, transferring Newkirk to a table and removing his uniform, changing him into the hospital's pajamas. A man with graying hair and a mustache hurried into the room just as they finished. "I am Doctor Siegfried. Vhat happened to zis man?" he asked.

Hogan told him, as the doctor gathered supplies. The first thing he did was push up Newkirk's sleeve and insert an intravenous needle into the crook of his left elbow, taping it into place before grabbing a bag of solution.

"What's that?" Hogan asked, used to not trusting most Germans.

"Saline," Siegfried answered. He looked at Hogan for a minute, remembering that they were prisoners. He saw that Hogan was wearing an officer's hat, and realized that the American had the personal duty of protecting the sick man on the table. "Do not vorry, I vill explain everysing as I go."

Hogan smiled, telling himself to have LeBeau make Schultz the best strudel ever. "Thanks."

A sudden moan from the table had them look back to Newkirk, in time to see him wince and sluggishly lift his right hand to his head as his consciousness returned.

Hogan immediately reached over and held down the Englishman's left arm, ensuring that he didn't move it and dislodge the needle. "Don't move, Newkirk. A doctor is taking a look at you."

Newkirk said nothing, giving another groan and trying to curl up on his side, his right hand balling into a fist against his forehead.

The doctor frowned, reaching over and trying to move Newkirk's hand so he could see his patient's face. "It ees all right, young man, I vill help you."

Newkirk didn't move his hand, his body starting to shake again from the pain.

Siegfried went over to a counter and took out a syringe and a bottle, drawing the liquid into it before approaching Newkirk again. "Zis is morphine," he told Hogan, before he could ask. He injected it into the IV port, before putting down the syringe with a sigh. "I did not vant to give him zat yet, not knowing vhat exactly ees vrong vith him, but I cannot treat him otherwise if he ees unable to cooperate…"

Hogan saw his point; Newkirk had succeeded in curling up on his left side, his face hidden under his hand. He patted the Englishman's arm as they waited for the morphine to work.

"I only gave him a small amount," said the doctor. "Enough to take zee edge off, hopefully vithout interfering in discovering zee reason for his pain."

"Could it really be just a migraine?" Hogan asked, still patting Newkirk's arm.

The doctor nodded. "It ees possible. I have seen such debilitating ones before, though not very often. I vill do an x-ray, und probably a spinal tap to make sure it ees not meningitis."

Hogan winced at that.

For a couple more minutes, they watched Newkirk quietly, before they noticed that he wasn't shaking as badly. "Newkirk?" Hogan said. "Did it help?"

The Englishman sighed. "A…little…" he said, sounding weak.

Hogan and Schultz smiled at the sound of his voice. "Can you lie flat for the doctor, so he can examine you?"

Instead of answering, Newkirk started to move, with Hogan helping him. He removed his hand from covering his face, though his eyes remained squeezed tightly shut. He was terribly pale, and inhaled sharply, his head throbbing worse from the movement.

The doctor moved closer, and Hogan and Schultz quietly watched as he checked Newkirk's heartbeat and pulse, and looked at the pupils of his eyes…something that was not easy when the patient was in too much pain to open them.

"I vill do zee x-ray now," said the doctor, covering Newkirk with a sheet. "I am sorry to say zat you cannot come into zee room vith him for zat…zee radiation is too dangerous."

Hogan opened his mouth to protest, but Schultz spoke first. "That is fine, we will stand outside the door."

The doctor nodded, and started to roll the gurney out.

Hogan looked at Schultz with a frown as they followed.

"He is a good doctor, Colonel," Schultz said. "And a good _man_. He will not do anything that will hurt Newkirk. Please trust me?"

Hogan sighed.

"I know that it is not easy to trust the enemy," Schultz continued. "But _I_ am not your enemy, not _really_…"

Hogan nodded and slapped him on the back. "No, Schultz, you're right. You're not our enemy...and we appreciate that very much."

The German guard smiled.

Approaching the room, Hogan and Schultz hung back as the doctor wheeled Newkirk inside. With a sigh, Hogan began to pace, and he didn't stop until the door opened again. Quietly, they followed the doctor back to the examination room, watching as he held the x-ray film to the light.

"I see nothzing amiss here," he said, placing it on the counter. He then opened another cabinet and took out a large syringe with a long needle.

Hogan gulped, despite himself. He stood with his hand on Newkirk's shoulder, and was slightly startled when the Englishman groaned. At first he wondered if he'd seen the needle, but the corporal's eyes were still closed.

The doctor approached. "He needs to be on his side," he told Hogan.

Newkirk started to move by himself, apparently wanting to curl up but having resisted all this time so the doctor could examine him.

_He wouldn't be moving voluntarily if he knew what the doctor is about to do, _Hogan thought, realizing that Newkirk had still been passed-out when Siegfried had mentioned the spinal tap. He helped his friend get settled on his left side, so as not to move the arm with the IV.

"Young man…" said Siegfried, before looking at Hogan. "Vhat ees his name?"

"Peter Newkirk."

"Peter," said the doctor, always using a patient's first name to make them feel more comfortable. "You vill feel a sting in your back, but you must not move, do you understand?"

Newkirk, mind fuzzy from his insane headache, didn't quite get it. "What?" he asked.

Hogan grabbed a chair and paced it next to the table, sitting down facing his friend. "The doctor's gonna give you a shot," he said, deliberately misleading Newkirk so they could get this over with as quickly as possible. "But you can't move until he says so, okay?"

Newkirk didn't answer, giving another gasp at the pain in his head.

"If you'd like, Newkirk," said Schultz, his fatherly instincts kicking in. "I will hold your hand." He stuck his fingers under Newkirk's right palm, and the Englishman gripped his hand tightly.

Hogan reached out and held down Newkirk's left arm, above the location of the IV needle, not wanting it to come out should Newkirk react violently to the 'sting'.

The doctor lifted Newkirk's pajama top, before slathering iodine in the proper place and sliding the needle in.

Newkirk gasped, his body growing even more rigid, if possible. He groaned and squeezed Schultz's hand impossibly tight, before taking a breath and holding it.

Hogan still kept the grip on his arm, and patted his shoulder with the other hand. "That's it, Newkirk, keep still," he said, wondering how long it would take.

"And _breathe_!" Schultz exclaimed.

Newkirk let out the breath he was holding, unable to hold in another moan. "Blimey!" he somehow managed to exclaim.

Hogan could feel the Englishman's arm trembling beneath his hand, and he patted it comfortingly. "Almost done," he said.

"Zat ees it," said the doctor, sliding the needle out.

Newkirk exhaled loudly, some of the tension leaving his body.

Schultz patted Newkirk's hand, not letting go of it. "Very good, Newkirk!" he said, as if talking to one of his own children. "You did very well."

Despite all the pain he was enduring, the Englishman smiled at that.

"I vill bring zis to zee lab," the doctor said, heading for the door. "Ve vill know zee results soon."

"What will you do with Newkirk in the meantime?" Hogan asked.

"I vill put him in a room, und ve vill vatch him carefully. If it ees truly just a migraine, I vill continue to give him morphine, due to zee severity of his pain."

"How long will he need to stay here?" Schultz asked.

Siegfried shrugged. "If migraine, then he vill stay until zee pain has gone und he is rested…ve do not vish it to return. If it is somezing else…ve shall see."

Hogan sighed. "Okay, doc. Thanks."

"I vill be right back," the doctor said, opening the door. "Do not let him move."

Hogan nodded and looked at Newkirk with another sigh, desperately hoping that the results would come back negative…

TBC


	4. The Results

Hogan looked at Schultz. "You were right. Siegfried is great."

Schultz smiled. "I have known him for many years."

Newkirk suddenly shifted slightly.

"Hey, how do you feel?" Hogan asked, hand still on the Englishman's shoulder.

"A…little…better," Newkirk said. "Me 'ead…that is…" He paused, catching his breath and gathering enough strength to speak after enduring such terrible pain for so long. "What was…that shot?"

Hogan sighed. "It was a spinal tap, Newkirk. I told you it was a shot so you wouldn't get nervous."

Newkirk said nothing, wincing as he shifted his legs and pain shot across his lower back. "Ow."

"Sorry."

"Not…ya fault…guv," Newkirk said, eyes still closed. "I never did…like…needles."

"Oooh, then don't look at your left arm, Newkirk," said Schultz, without thinking.

At that, Newkirk managed to open his eyes and spotted the IV needle.

The door suddenly opened as Siegfried came back into the room. He smiled. "How ees our patient?"

"He said he feels a little better," Hogan said, happily.

The doctor nodded. "Zat is zee drug. Hopefully, it vill just be migraine und ve can give him more. Let us settle him in a room, und ve vill find out soon vhat zee lab says."

Hogan and Schultz followed the doctor as he again wheeled the gurney out of the room.

Newkirk opened his eyes, trying to look around the hospital. The sight of everything moving past him was too much for his throbbing head, so he quickly closed them again.

Siegfried pushed the gurney into a room and over to a bed, before taking Newkirk under the arms and motioning for Schultz to take his legs. They gently transferred him to the surprisingly comfortable mattress, before pushing the gurney out of the way.

Hogan looked around the room, shocked and glad to find that it was a private one. He grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed and pulled it up over the corporal, frowning at the wince that deepened on the Englishman's face.

Newkirk tried to hold in a gasp at what the movement from the gurney to the bed had done to his horrid headache, nevermind the sharp pain in his back. He carefully curled up on his side again, hoping that the lab results would come back fast so something could be done about his pain before he went mad.

Siegfried hung the bag of saline on a pole beside the bed, before again checking Newkirk's pulse. "Are you comfortable, Peter?" he asked. "Or at least, as comfortable as you _can_ be?"

"Yeah," Newkirk managed to say. His voice sounded strained.

The doctor patted his shoulder.

"How long will the lab take?" Hogan asked, impatient.

Siegfried looked at his watch. "Not too long, I made zem give it top priority. I vill go see if zey are almost finished." With that, he left again.

Hogan and Schultz silently watched Newkirk, purposely not talking so he could have some peace and quiet.

It wasn't long before the doctor came back into the room, and Hogan and Schultz urgently looked up…to find the doctor smiling.

"Good news!" Siegfried said. "He does not have meningitis. I vill give him some more morphine, und he vill feel much better."

Despite the pain, Newkirk's eyes popped open. "Morphine?" he said, having been too out-of-it to hear what the doctor had given him earlier.

"Yes, young man," the doctor said, preparing a needle. "Zis vill do vonders for zee pain."

Newkirk looked at Hogan, as the doctor walked over and shot the needle's contents into the IV. Closing his eyes again, he remembered his last encounter with morphine…taking a bullet for Hogan not too long after meeting him*, and being drugged senseless for days. When he'd finally woken, he'd found the drug to cause bizarre effects that he hadn't liked in the least, and hoped he'd never need morphine again.

Hogan knew what Newkirk was thinking about, and patted his arm encouragingly. "Don't worry, you'll be back to your old self faster than Carter can make a new bomb."

Schultz blinked, not sure at what he'd just heard. "Faster than what?!"

"Nothing, Schultz."

The German guard closed his eyes. "That's right, _nothing_! I hear nothing…I hear _nothhhh-iiiiing_!"

Newkirk closed his eyes, waiting for the drug to work. Within minutes, the pain began to ease, lessening the tension in his muscles.

Hogan saw the Englishman's body relax, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, doc," he said, nodding up at Siegfried.

The doctor nodded back with a smile. "I vill vatch him carefully, to ensure zat zee morphine doesn't cause any troublesome effects."

Hogan was relieved to hear that, knowing the risks involved with the sometimes-dangerous drug. He suddenly realized something. "You said he doesn't have meningitis…but that doesn't really mean that it's definitely a migraine, either…"

Siegfried nodded. "Zat is true. I vill vatch to see if any other symptoms develop."

Hogan nodded, just as Newkirk shifted slightly and reopened his eyes. "Hey, how you feeling?" he asked.

Newkirk smiled—actually _smiled_. "Better, Colonel…that stuff works fast." He closed his eyes again and gave a huge yawn. "I'm a mite…tired, though…"

Dr. Siegfried frowned. "Did zis come on suddenly?"

Hogan answered for Newkirk. "He didn't get any rest all night, doc."

"Ah," said Siegfried, as they watched the Englishman's head loll slightly to the left. "He needs to sleep."

Schultz suddenly sighed. "And unfortunately, _we_ need to get back to the Stalag."

"Aw Schultz," Hogan protested. "Can't we stay longer? Klink doesn't know what's going on."

"No, he doesn't, but he will _ask_ me and I will have to account for all this time!"

"So you tell him that we waited long for the spinal tap results, that's all," said Hogan. "Come on…aren't you glad to spend some time away from the camp? _Aren't_ you?"

Schultz couldn't help but nod.

"And what about poor Newkirk, here," Hogan continued, gesturing to the dozing Englishman. "Do you really think he wants us to leave him here all alone? What if he needs someone to hold his hand again?" he said, appealing to Schultz's paternal side.

Schultz gave Newkirk a sympathetic look, before reaching over and patting the corporal's arm. "Don't worry, Newkirk, we will stay as long as we can!"

The half-asleep Englishman smiled slightly.

For a while, Hogan and Schultz watched Newkirk sleep while the doctor took the opportunity to make his rounds. An hour later, Schultz's name was called over the loudspeaker, and asked to report to the front desk.

Hogan knew what that meant; Klink had called the hospital…probably desperately wondering if Newkirk really _was_ contagious or not.

Schultz left to take the call, and when he came back, Hogan could tell from the look on his face that he was right.

"That was the Kommandant," the guard said. "We need to go back at once…I told him what happened, and that we _just found out_ that Newkirk does not appear to have anything catching."

Hogan inwardly chuckled. He'd been right. Reaching forward, he put his hand on Newkirk's arm and squeezed it gently. "Newkirk?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

He received no reply.

Hogan sighed and stood, just as the doctor came back into the room.

"How ees he?" Siegfried asked, walking over to the bed.

"Asleep," said Hogan. "He seems okay."

Siegfried listened to Newkirk's heart and checked his pulse. "A little slow, but morphine does zat. You are leaving?"

Hogan nodded and stuck out his hand. "We have no choice. Take good care of Newkirk for us, huh?"

Siegfried shook it. "I vill, do not vorry."

Hogan nodded and took another look at Newkirk before leaving the room, with Schultz behind him. They said nothing as they left the hospital, and were quiet for the first few moments of the ride back.

"Are you pleased with Dr. Siegfried?" Schultz eventually asked.

Hogan nodded, shooting him a smile. "Yeah, Schultz, definitely. You have _no idea_ how relieved I am. It's not easy to leave one of my men in the hands of—if you'll excuse the phrase—the enemy."

The guard nodded. "I know, Colonel. I am so glad that I was able to help. I am sure that Newkirk will be just fine, and will soon be back home at the Stalag with us, where he belongs!"

Hogan couldn't help but smile at Schultz's attempt to comfort him.

Soon, they were driving back through the camp gates, and Schultz let him off at the door of Barracks Two, which opened the minute the truck rolled in. The men started asking questions before he even got inside.

"Hold it!" Hogan exclaimed.

Everyone instantly shut up.

"Newkirk should be fine," Hogan told them. "It looks like he just has a migraine twice the size of Europe. They gave him morphine and he should be back in a day or so, if nothing else develops."

Everyone erupted into relieved chatter, and Hogan took the chance to sit down.

"Really, Colonel?" Carter said. "Newkirk will be okay? What did the doctor do?"

"How was he when you left?" LeBeau asked.

"Sleeping," Hogan said. "And yes, Carter, so far, it seems that he'll be fine. They did a spinal tap to make sure he didn't have meningitis or something, and when it came back negative, they gave him the morphine. It worked pretty fast, and then he fell asleep."

"A spinal tap," Kinch said, cringing.

Hogan nodded, with a sigh. "That part wasn't fun…for _me_ either." He suddenly looked at LeBeau. "I want you to make the best strudel this country has to offer."

LeBeau perked up. "Did Newkirk ask for some?"

Hogan shook his head, and told them what Schultz did…from requesting his own family's personal doctor, to even holding Newkirk's hand during the spinal tap. "You should've seen it. Schultz cares about us more than we even know."

Everyone smiled.

"We should think up a special way to show our appreciation!" said Carter.

Hogan nodded. "If you have any ideas, let me know."

Everyone was silent for a minute, before Carter asked, "Can we sneak over to the hospital tonight and visit Newkirk?"

Hogan nodded. He knew that the others would worry if they couldn't see him. "I'm meeting an Underground agent tonight a couple miles from the Hammelberg Hospital. After I'm through with that, we can go see him."

Carter's face split into a wide grin. "Thanks, Colonel! Oh boy! Should we bring him anything? What about—"

"Carter," Hogan interrupted, knowing that the sergeant would talk incessantly now if he didn't stop him immediately. "Why don't you go spread the word that Newkirk should be fine? I'm sure that others are worried too."

"Okay!" Carter replied, before bounding out of the barracks.

The others rolled their eyes at his energy, but everyone was smiling.

TBC

Don't worry, everyone, the story isn't winding down, not by any means! LOL

* See 'History Repeats Itself', chapter 8 of my 'A Day in the Life at Stalag 13' snippet collection!


	5. Trouble

The next time Newkirk opened his eyes, he was very confused. He found himself lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room, and he didn't know why. His head was aching a little, and felt floaty. It took extreme effort to turn his head, and he blinked unseeing at a row of cabinets that lined the wall.

He wondered if he was dreaming, and tiredly closed his eyes again, figuring he'd wake up if he went back to sleep. Part of his mind knew that the odd notion didn't make sense, but the other part of him didn't really care. All he knew was that the bed was soft, and the blankets were warm. Wherever he was didn't matter, as long as he was safe.

_Safe. Am I safe? _he thought. _I must be, if the Colonel 'asn't seen fit ta rescue me._ Something nagged at his mind. _Colonel? Do I know a Colonel?_ The nagging feeling disappeared, and the floaty feeling increased. _I know a lotta people…London's a big city. Where's me mum?_ He frowned, even with his eyes closed, wondering why he'd suddenly thought of his mother. He felt more confused, but before he could continue the internal conversation with himself, he suddenly realized that someone else was in the room.

A hand felt his forehead and gently pulled back the blankets. Cool air rushed in, and he shivered. He felt something touch his chest and move to a few different places, before the hands replaced the blankets.

_Thanks, mum,_ Newkirk thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Colonel Hogan walked into the Kommandant's office, strolling over to the door and knocking.

"Come in!" he heard.

Opening the door, Hogan walked in and sat at the desk, placing a covered plate on top.

Klink looked up, frowning in confusion. "What is _that_?"

"It's from the men, sir," Hogan told him. "In appreciation for letting Newkirk go to the hospital."

Klink lifted the cover, and his eyebrows rose. "Apple strudel!"

"LeBeau just made it, it's still warm!" said Hogan.

Klink reached for a piece and ate it, his eyes closing as he went, "Ummm!"

Hogan snagged a piece and shoved it into his mouth before Klink saw.

Klink reopened his eyes and shook his head. "This is delicious!" he said, not even thinking to ask where they'd gotten the ingredients.

"They'll be glad to know you like it," Hogan said, standing. He looked at Klink for a minute, knowing full-well that another Kommandant would've refused treatment for a prisoner, and let them suffer instead. "I wanted to thank you personally, sir, for letting Newkirk get the help that he needed." He snapped to attention and gave a salute…one that was a far cry from the sloppy, mocking salutes that he usually gave.

Klink was surprised, and saluted back. He watched, amazed, as Hogan left, before eagerly digging back into the strudel.

Hogan headed back to his barracks, knowing that their show of appreciation—and _his_ show of respect—would keep Klink on their side in the future if something like this ever happened again.

"This is wunderbar!" Hogan heard, as he opened the door. As expected, he found Schultz sitting at their table, with the men surrounding him.

"You deserve it," Hogan said, sitting across from him.

Schultz paused in chewing. "Oh, Colonel, I only did what anyone would've done."

Hogan shook his head. "For a fellow German, yes. For the 'enemy'…no," he replied, thinking of all the cases he knew of where Allied men were abused by doctors, and even been denied medical care.

Schultz took a gulp of the coffee that LeBeau had just poured him, before suddenly turning serious. "There are many evil people in the world, Colonel. I am not, and could _never_ be, one of them."

Hogan smiled. "We know, Schultz. We've known that for a _long_ time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Newkirk found that he was awake long before he opened his eyes. There were the soft sounds of someone moving through the room, and he blinked, seeing the man come info focus.

"Hello dere, Peter," said Dr. Siegfried, reading the chart at the end of his patient's bed. "Und how are you feeling?"

Newkirk didn't answer, blinking a few more times as he tried to remember why he was lying in a German hospital.

The doctor hung the chart back on the nail and walked forward, bending over the bed.

Newkirk watched him walk closer, still blinking blearily when his eyes had trouble following him.

Siegfried noticed that his patient was having trouble with his vision, and he didn't need any extra light to see that Newkirk's pupils were too small. It was a side effect seen commonly in a person taking morphine, but it could also be the first sign of depressed-respiration, caused by the drug. His patient seemed to be breathing all right, so there was nothing to do but watch him and hope that nothing would develop. "How do you feel, Peter?" he asked again. "Does your head hurt at all?"

Newkirk felt disoriented. "A little," he finally answered.

Siegfried took out his stethoscope and listened to Newkirk's heart. "Zee morphine ees starting to vear off; you need another dose in one hour. Any new symptoms?"

Newkirk wasn't sure how to answer that. "Umm…" he said.

"Any other pain?" Siegfried clarified.

"No…is there anythin' else ya can gimme instead?" Newkirk asked, feeling lightheaded and closing his eyes.

"Besides morphine? Why is zat?"

"Don't like it," Newkirk answered. "Makes me float." He inwardly frowned, realizing how odd his sentence had sounded. "An' talk funny."

Siegfried nodded. "Morphine can have unpleasant effects, but since you have already had two doses, I do not think ve should change it to somezing else."

Newkirk sighed, and floated away into a doze. He suddenly dreamed that the door to his room opened, and two German men walked in, discussing meeting Papa Bear that night, and capturing him. Siegfried asked why they were there, and they answered that they'd accidentally gone into the wrong room.

Newkirk watched as the men quickly left and Siegfried started pacing, looking nervous. It took Newkirk a couple of minutes to realize that his eyes were open, and he _hadn't_ been dreaming. _Darn morphine, _he thought. It took another minute for him to realize what he'd heard the German men say, and his heart leaped into his throat. _Catch Papa Bear? Tonight?_

Siegfried was still pacing, and a sudden thought struck Newkirk's fuzzy mind. It looked like the doctor was upset over what the two men had said…and there was only one reason how that could be.

"German winters are so cold."

The doctor stopped pacing, in shock. Did Newkirk just give him the code that was devised in order to recognize other Underground agents, or was he simply stating a well-known fact? After what he'd just heard those two strangers say, he decided that it had to be the former. "Not as cold as Hitler's heart," he said, and held his breath.

Relieved to hear that answer, Newkirk struggled to sit up. "We gotta warn Co—Papa Bear!" he said, almost saying Hogan's name.

Siegfried rushed over and grabbed his shoulders, holding him down. "You cannot get up!" He was so intent on preventing his patient from moving, that he didn't even have time to be surprised over the fact that Newkirk obviously understood the German language.

Newkirk lay limply, blinking his eyes against the sparkly colors that had just invaded his vision…one of the reasons why he hated morphine so much. "Ya hafta warn 'im, then…"

Dr. Siegfried shook his head mournfully. "I cannot go…I am zee doctor on call tonight."

Newkirk raised his right hand to his head, feeling dizzy, which he knew was yet another wonderful side effect. "Get me up," he said. "No one's gonna nab 'im if I can 'elp it!"

"You don't even know vhere to go!" The doctor blinked. "_I_ don't even know vhere to go!"

Newkirk sighed. "Yes I do. I know exactly where 'e plans ta meet 'is contact."

Siegfried was surprised to realize that Newkirk actually _knew _Papa Bear, unlike himself. "But you should not move," he protested. "Spinal taps are not easy on zee body…they often cause a severe headache if zee patient gets moving too soon, und vith you already suffering from migraine, doing anysing strenuous could make you vorse!"

Newkirk sighed again. "I'm goin'…I _hafta_."

Siegfried realized that he had no choice but to let him go; Papa Bear was too important to lose. "But you might not make it, in your state."

"I'll make it," Newkirk vowed, sitting up with the doctor's help. He sat there for a minute, blinking his vision into focus and wishing that his migraine hadn't needed the assistance of such a strong drug. "Where's me clothes?" he asked.

With a sigh, the doctor grabbed a cotton ball and tape, before sitting beside him on the bed and taking Newkirk's arm, gently removing the IV and bandaging the hole. He went to the closet and grabbed Newkirk's clothes, tossing them onto the bed and reaching to unbutton his patient's pajama top.

"I don't need help," Newkirk said, reaching up to do it himself…and only succeeding in fumbling with the buttons.

"Yes you do," Siegfried said, pushing his hands away. "Morphine affects motor function."

_Oh,_ Newkirk thought. He had no choice but to accept Siegfried's assistance, and when he was finally dressed, the doctor helped him stand up.

Newkirk tried to stay upright under his own power, but the drug had other ideas and made the room spin around him.

Siegfried held onto his patient tightly, his instincts telling him not to let the Englishman go. "Won't you change your mind?" he asked, even thought he knew the answer.

Newkirk took a deep breath and summoned whatever strength he could, forcing himself to stand up straight. "No," he said. He looked towards the window, blinking when it appeared blurred for a second. "I'll be goin' out _that_ way," he unnecessarily said, pointing with an unsteady hand.

Siegfried sighed. Newkirk was in no shape for this 'mission'. "Do you know vhere you are going?" he asked.

Newkirk's eyes looked glazed, and he appeared to think, before nodding. "Ta save the guv'nor," he answered, not realizing that the doctor meant the _location_, not his objective. He started to walk towards the window, stumbling a few steps.

_To save the vhat? _Siegfried thought, assisting him over to the window and opening it for him. He took Newkirk's arm and stared at him for a few seconds. "Make sure he brings you back _here_ aftervards!" he said, giving Newkirk's arm a shake to ensure that he was paying attention. "Otherwise you vill be considered an escaped prisoner, und you und I both vill be in very bad trouble!"

The glazed look faded from Newkirk's eyes somewhat, and he appeared to come back to himself. "Don't worry, mate," he said. "The _last_ thing I want is that kinda trouble."

"Good," Dr. Siegfried said. He helped Newkirk climb out the window, still feeling reluctant, but knowing that he had no choice.

Newkirk somehow made it out the window, standing against the wall of the building for a minute before looking around, blinking in the darkness to get his bearings.

With a sigh, Siegfried watched as Newkirk walked off, praying that the young man wouldn't get himself killed...

TBC


	6. Not Even Morphine can Stop Newkirk!

Newkirk shivered, closing his eyes as a gust of wind blew. He realized that he didn't have his topcoat…apparently; Hogan hadn't thought to bring it with them to the hospital. He had no idea how much time had passed as he walked…the trip was sometimes interrupted by bouts of lightheadedness, and he found that the minor ache in his head had started to increase again, as the morphine continued to wear off. He also found that his lower back ached dully, from the spinal tap, he knew, and a sharper pain would sometimes shoot down both his legs, especially if he stumbled. He sighed, trying to walk as fast as possible, inwardly cursing the weakness he felt and praying that he would reach Hogan before the Germans did.

Suddenly, he was there: the contact site was through the woods and at the bottom of a hill. Knowing that Hogan would stay hidden until he saw the contact arrive, Newkirk leaned on a tree to catch his breath, before whistling a birdcall that the colonel would recognize.

Hogan was hiding nearby, and when he heard the whistle, he looked around with surprise. The contact he was meeting didn't know about the birdcalls that he and the others had devised to notify each other of their presence…not to mention that it sounded exactly like Newkirk's, which he knew was impossible. The call came again, and Hogan realized that he could hear someone breathing.

Quietly, the colonel crept towards the sound, and was stunned beyond belief when he spotted Newkirk in the moonlight, slouched against a tree. Looking around to ensure that no one was around, he quickly dashed over and grabbed the Englishman's arms. "What are you doing here?!" he whispered, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

Newkirk looked at him, blinking at the figure that had appeared so suddenly. "I 'ad ta save ya."

Hogan frowned with alarm. Newkirk was pale and obviously out of breath. He didn't look healthy at all, and Hogan realized that in his drugged state, Newkirk must have hallucinated some irrational danger and wandered off from the hospital. The implications of what could have happened to the Englishman along the way caused Hogan to mentally stagger. There was no question to the fact that he had to take care of his friend rather than meet the contact tonight, so Hogan slung one of Newkirk's arms over his shoulders and guided him away from the tree.

Newkirk said nothing for a moment, before he suddenly seemed to come back to himself. "Colonel!"

Hogan glanced at him, relieved to see coherence in his eyes. "Newkirk, you escaped from the hospital! How long have you been wandering around out here?!"

Newkirk frowned. "I 'aven't been wanderin'…I came ta prevent ya from meetin' that contact." He closed his eyes and sighed with relief at having succeeded.

Hogan frowned again. "What? Why?"

"A coupla Germans came into me room by accident, discussin' capturin' Papa Bear tonight. The doctor is with the Underground, an' 'elped me get out."

Hogan stopped walking. "Dr. Siegfried is with the Underground?"

Newkirk was glad to stop. He winced and took a deep breath, his headache increasing steadily now that the morphine was wearing off.

Hogan could see that the Englishman was declining, but he knew that they weren't far enough away from the meeting site. "I can't let you rest yet…we need to get out of here."

Newkirk nodded, before closing his eyes when the motion only increased the pain.

Hogan gripped him tighter and continued walking, not stopping until they'd reached a distance that he considered safe. He gently sat Newkirk down against a tree and crouched in front of him, concerned at how out of breath his friend was.

Newkirk closed his eyes, breathing heavily. The left side of his head was sending sharp spikes of pain through itself once again.

Hogan touched his arm. "The morphine wearing off?"

Newkirk almost nodded, but caught himself ahead of time.

The colonel sighed and looked around himself. "Wasn't there another way you could've gotten word to me?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "You shouldn't've left the hospital…you made yourself a sitting duck out here!"

Newkirk opened his eyes. "No more than _you_ were, guv."

Hogan had no answer for that, Newkirk was right; he'd been in just as much danger…they were both very lucky to have evaded harm. He sat beside the Englishman and let him rest for a few minutes, before eventually sliding an arm around Newkirk's back. "Come on."

Newkirk tried to stand, but didn't get very far before he gasped and fell to his knees.

Hogan grabbed onto him. "What happened?"

Newkirk winced, leaning forward to place a hand on the ground, in an effort to take the tension off his upper body. "Just 'ow big was that ruddy needle?" he asked, reaching behind himself with the other hand to carefully touch his lower back.

Hogan made a face. "Bigger than I expected it to be." He surveyed the terrain to ensure that they were still safe, before pulling Newkirk's arm around his shoulders and standing, hauling the Englishman up instead of making him stand.

Newkirk took a deep breath, trying to fight the pain that pulsed through his head.

Hogan waited until he was ready before continuing their walk, hoping that they'd make it back to the hospital in one piece.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Siegfried was beside himself. Newkirk had left an hour and a half ago, and he had no idea how far his patient needed to walk to get to Papa Bear's location. He looked out the window for the hundredth time, and gasped when he saw two figures approaching the building.

"Newkirk," Hogan said. "Which window did you climb out?"

The Englishman barely heard him through the drumming that was going on inside his head. He winced and opened his eyes, but had no idea which room was his.

Hogan opened his mouth to ask again, before he suddenly saw one of the windows open up, and a man start climbing out of it. He wore a white doctor's coat, and Hogan was relieved to see that it was Siegfried.

The doctor hurried over and took hold of Newkirk on the other side. "I vas afraid zat he vould not make it back!" he exclaimed.

Hogan nodded. "Let's get inside."

Saying no more, they made their way to the window and carefully helped Newkirk climb in, gently laying him on the bed where he predictably curled up on his side again. Hogan watched as the doctor headed towards a cabinet.

"Remove his jacket," Siegfried said.

Hogan obeyed, reaching over and gently tugging it free from Newkirk's unresisting body.

Siegfried returned with a syringe, and after pushing up one of Newkirk's sleeves, he shot the morphine into the Englishman's arm, before taking out his stethoscope.

The way Newkirk was curled up, Hogan wondered how Siegfried would manage to listen to his heartbeat, and was surprised when the doctor placed the stethoscope on Newkirk's back instead. "I do not like zee vay he is breathing," Siegfried explained.

Hogan frowned. Newkirk had been out of breath from the walk, which was perfectly normal in his condition, but as Hogan watched, he could see that the Englishman's breathing had turned shallow.

Dr. Siegfried headed towards a machine and pushed it over to the bed, before flicking a switch and picking up the attached oxygen mask.

Hogan, seeing that Newkirk's curled-up position would interfere with the doctor's treatment, reached out and took the Englishman's shoulders and gently forced him onto his back.

Siegfried placed the mask over Newkirk's face, and Hogan squeezed his friend's arms, hoping that he'd open his eyes so Hogan could scold him for leaving the hospital in his condition.

Newkirk's eyes remained closed; whether he was asleep or passed out, Hogan wasn't sure. "Who were the men who came in here?" he asked.

Siegfried shook his head and took Newkirk's arm to insert the IV again. "I do not know, I haf never seen zem before." He suddenly stopped and looked at Hogan, in shocked realization. "You are Papa Bear!"

Hogan nodded; no sense in denying it now. "Can you keep a secret?"

The doctor smiled. "I vould not be part of zee Underground if I could not."

Hogan smiled back before frowning at Newkirk. "Will he be all right?"

Siegfried nodded. "Ve know zat morphine can depress a patient's respiration, especially after zat excursion zat he vas not fit for."

Hogan nodded, sighing again. Though he was upset that Newkirk had put himself through that, he knew that the corporal hadn't just saved _his_ life, but also the lives of every prisoner at Stalag Thirteen.

The next few minutes passed in silence, as they changed Newkirk back into pajamas and covered him with blankets.

Suddenly, another familiar birdcall split the air.

Hogan looked towards the window, having nearly forgotten that the rest of the guys were on their way to visit their friend. He walked over to the window and stuck his head out, whistling back.

A head popped up from behind a bush, and within seconds, someone was climbing through the window.

Carter nervously stared at his friend, not even sparing the doctor a glance as he slowly walked over to the bed and sat down on it. "W-what's the oxygen for?!" he blurted, once he was able to find his voice.

The doctor explained that it was a side effect of the morphine, and Carter gave a startled jump when he heard his voice, looking between him and Hogan.

"It's all right, Carter," said Hogan, helping LeBeau climb in. "He's with the Underground."

Carter was relieved to hear that. "Newkirk?" he said, hoping he was awake. He was disappointed when he received no answer, and sighed, unnerved to see his friend lying unresponsive in a hospital bed.

LeBeau and Kinch felt the same way, and stood by, quietly.

Carter suddenly reached over and shook Newkirk's shoulder, to the shock of everyone watching.

"Carter!" everyone exclaimed. It would've sounded funny, had the situation been different.

"What? I wanna talk to him! He's on morphine, right?" Carter said, pointing at the IV bag. "So he's not in pain anymore, right?"

Before anyone could answer, Newkirk stirred, and everyone automatically smiled when their friend opened his eyes.

"Hey!" Carter said. "How do you feel?"

Newkirk blinked. He could see people in the room, but the drug was once again doing what he hated so much: distorting his vision.

"Newkirk?" Carter said, with a frown.

"Oh… 'ey, Andrew," the Englishman said, tiredly. "Whatcha doin' 'ere?"

Carter smiled again. "We came to see you."

"We're _all_ here," said LeBeau, crouching to the seated-American's level…which wasn't hard for him to do. He gave Newkirk a wave.

"How you feeling, buddy?" Kinch asked, echoing Carter's unanswered question.

"Floaty," Newkirk answered, closing his eyes again. His head lolled a little, and the movement made him aware that something was sitting on his face. He sluggishly reached up towards it, but something stopped him.

"Hey," Carter said, grabbing his arm. "You can't take that off."

"Whatzit?" Newkirk slurred.

"Oxygen," Carter said, sounding worried.

"Oh. That's good," Newkirk answered, eyes still closed. His head lolled a little more, and stayed that way.

Hogan patted Carter's shoulder when the sergeant sighed. "Don't worry," he said. "He'll be fine. Right, doc?"

Siegfried nodded. "No other symptoms have developed, so I zink zat he just needs rest."

"How long does he have to stay here?" LeBeau asked.

Siegfried shook his head. "Hard to say. At least through tomorrow, after vhat happened earlier."

Three pairs of nervous eyes swiveled towards Hogan, who knew that he had quite a story to tell them. He filled them in, and all three men were completely shocked.

"He could've gotten himself killed!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Talk about being in the right place at the right time," said Kinch, looking at Hogan. "If he hadn't been brought to the hospital—to this very room!—no one would've known about the plot against you…and you'd probably be dead right now."

Hogan nodded, looking back at Newkirk.

Carter shook his head. "He went to the contact sight and saved you...like _that_?" He pointed at the drugged-senseless Englishman.

Hogan nodded again.

Carter smiled. "Wow! Not even _morphine _can stop ol' Newkirk!"

Everyone smiled, before falling quiet for a while, watching Newkirk sleep, until Hogan sighed and looked at his watch. "We should be getting back. Roll call is only a few hours away."

Everyone nodded, though they were all reluctant to leave.

Hogan stood first and briefly touched Newkirk's shoulder, before heading towards the window and opening it.

Kinch stood next, doing the same thing and climbing out first, as Hogan stood and watched the others.

LeBeau and Carter couldn't leave without saying something to their friend, asleep or not. LeBeau patted Newkirk's arm and whispered something to him in French, before crossing to the window and climbing out.

Carter sighed and picked up his friend's hand. "Hey, Newkirk, we have to go now. If you don't come back to the Stalag tomorrow, we'll come see you again after lights-out, okay? I hope you feel better when you wake up." He waited for a minute, as if hoping that Newkirk would answer.

But the Englishman's eyes remained closed, his body immobile.

Carter sighed and stood, walking towards Hogan. He suddenly turned and looked at the doctor. "Take care of him? Uh, I know you _are_, I just mean…"

Siegfried smiled. "Do not vorry, young man. I vill keep him safe."

Carter gave him a relieved smile. "Thanks." He gave Hogan a pleading look as he climbed out the window.

Hogan knew how Carter felt; he didn't like leaving Newkirk alone in the German hospital overnight, either. "Do you have a way to contact the Underground, if you had to get word to us?"

The doctor nodded. "I do."

Hogan nodded back. "Okay." He went over and held out his hand. "Thanks."

Siegfried smiled and shook it. "You are velcome. I am honored to care for a member of Papa Bear's team."

Hogan smiled back, before heading to the window and taking one last look at Newkirk before climbing out.

The others weren't in sight, and Hogan dashed towards the bushes, finding them all hiding behind them.

"Do we _have_ to go, Colonel?" Carter asked, even though the tone of his voice showed that he knew they had no choice.

Hogan nodded. He looked around before saying, "Come on."

Everyone followed, and all too soon, they were back inside their barracks.

Carter sighed as he crawled into his bed. He was acutely aware that Newkirk wasn't in the bunk above him, and it was extremely upsetting. What if some of the doctors decided to 'experiment' on the allied prisoner? What if Newkirk really _did_ have something worse wrong with him? What if Dr. Siegfried turned out to be a plant, and told Hochstetter about their operation?

When roll call approached, Carter didn't need to be woken up…because he'd never fallen asleep.

TBC


	7. Loopy

The morning dawned bright and sunny, which didn't match the moods of Hogan and the others. They were all exhausted, having not slept much the night before, and as soon as roll call was done, Hogan followed Klink into his office.

"Yes, yes, Hogan, I will call the hospital right away," Klink said, anticipating what he was going to say.

Hogan stood in front of the desk, watching as Klink dialed the number.

"Hello," said Klink. "This is Colonel Klink from Stalag Thirteen. I am calling to inquire on the condition of one of my prisoners…yes…Peter Newkirk. Yes, I'll hold."

The door opened, and Hogan turned to see Schultz walk in.

Klink drummed his fingers on the desk. "Yes…good. Do you know if he'll be released today? Oh. All right. Thank you." He hung up and looked at Hogan. "His condition is stable, but they aren't sure yet when he'll be released. I'm to call again this afternoon."

Hogan nodded. "Can Schultz take me to see him?" He tried his best to look pleading…it wasn't hard at all.

Klink didn't answer immediately…Hogan knew it was simply to show him who was in charge here. "All right…but only for one hour!"

"Not including the time spent driving there and back, right?"

Klink flicked his hand at him. "Just go!"

Hogan smiled. "Thanks, Kommandant." He gave a salute, and shoved Schultz out the door.

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch were waiting outside. "What'd he say?" Carter asked, impatiently.

"Newkirk's stable, nothing happened."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, following as Hogan and Schultz headed for the motor pool. As they climbed into the vehicle, Carter said, "Tell Newkirk that we miss him."

Hogan nodded. "Okay. Behave while I'm gone," he joked.

They were quiet for a few minutes as Schultz drove, before Hogan spoke. "Is Dr. Siegfried married?"

Schultz nodded. "Yes, and he has four children."

"Young?"

Schultz shrugged. "The youngest is seven."

Hogan nodded and filed the information away in his memory. If the Germans ever found out that Siegfried was part of the Underground, he planned to personally ensure that he and his family escaped safely.

Soon, they arrived at the hospital and headed to Newkirk's room, but when they walked in, they found an unexpected sight.

The room was empty.

Hogan ran out and dashed over to the information desk, with Schultz hurrying to keep up. "Where is the patient who was in room 150?" he urgently asked.

The woman, unfazed, stared at him. "And who are you, sir?"

Schultz came forward. "It is all right, fraulein, the patient is a POW from Stalag Thirteen, where I am a guard."

She nodded and looked through paperwork. "He was moved to the second floor, room 225."

"Where's the stairs?" Hogan asked.

The woman pointed, and he ran off down the hall.

"Colonel Hoooooogannnnn!" Schultz whined, rushing to keep up.

Hogan found the stairs and bounded up them, trying not to think of what some German doctors had done in the recent past to allied patients. He found the room and threw the door open.

Dr. Siegfried looked up, from where he was bent over the bed, and watched as Hogan quickly came over.

Hogan sighed with relief as he looked down at Newkirk, who appeared to be asleep. "Why was he moved?"

Siegfried straightened and removed his stethoscope. He appeared to think for a minute before replying. "A nurse accidentally tripped over zee IV pole, und knocked it into zee vindow, vhich broke it, so I thought it best to move him out of zere."

Hogan knew immediately that the story was a lie…for Schultz's benefit.

"Oh no!" Schultz exclaimed. "Newkirk was not hurt by the glass, was he?"

Siegfried shook his head.

Hogan sat on the side of the bed and studied the Englishman. "How is he today?" he asked, concerned to see that he was still wearing the oxygen mask.

"His vital signs are fine. He has not voken yet though, so I haven't been able to ask him any questions. He has no fever, so zee headache does not appear to be a result of a serious illness."

Hogan nodded, relieved. "Any idea when he can leave?"

Siegfried shrugged. "I cannot say yet. By zee severity of his migraine, I do not think zat he vill already be recovered enough to discontinue taking zee morphine just yet. The drug doesn't _cure_ zee migraine, it simply masks zee pain until zee reason for it finally abates." He sighed. "Also, vith zee morphine having depressed his lung function, it makes me vant to monitor him until all of zee morphine is completely out of his system."

Hogan nodded, with a sigh. Suddenly he looked at the doctor and stood, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Schultz exclaimed, following.

Hogan gestured with his thumb towards the door. "To find some coffee. They usually sell it in hospitals for five cents!"

Schultz rolled his eyes. "Heh, prisoners do not have money!"

Hogan made a face. "Oh yeah, that's right." He sighed as if disappointed.

Schultz fell for it, as expected. "I will go get it for you, Colonel Hogan. Stay with Newkirk."

Hogan patted him on the back as he opened the door. "Thanks, Schultz."

The minute the door was closed, Hogan spun towards the doctor. "Okay…why was he _really_ moved?"

Siegfried sighed. "I tried to find out who those two men vere," he said. "But could not. In case they returned to zis hospital, I vanted to make sure zat Peter vas not in zee same place."

Hogan nodded. "Smart thinking. It's a good thing to have you on our side, doc."

Siegfried smiled.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Schultz walked in juggling three cups of coffee. "Here we are! One for you, one for the doctor, and one for me!"

"Don't I get some too?"

Everyone looked down at the bed, to see Newkirk looking up at them blearily.

"Hey!" Hogan said. "How do you feel?"

"Floaty," Newkirk replied, closing his eyes. He reopened them a minute later. "Did I say that already?"

"No, that was last night," Hogan replied.

"Last night?" Schultz repeated. "We were not here last night."

Hogan caught his breath at the realization that he'd just made a serious mistake. He looked at Schultz and whispered, "We gotta go along with him, Schultz, the morphine is making him loopy."

The German guard nodded. "Aha, right!"

Hogan inwardly rolled his eyes before sitting on the side of the bed. "I don't think the doctor would want you to drink coffee, Newkirk, sorry," he said, changing the subject.

Newkirk closed his eyes again. "Not faiiir," he whined.

_Yes, definitely loopy,_ Hogan thought. He reached out and patted Newkirk's arm. "Be a good patient, and maybe Schultz will stop by a pub when we spring you out of here."

"A pub! The Kommandant would have my head!" Schultz exclaimed.

Hogan shrugged. "It was worth a try." He frowned when Newkirk's eyes closed again. The Englishman really didn't look well. "Are you hungry, Newkirk?"

The corporal started to nod his head, before shaking it instead.

"Which one?" Schultz asked.

"Which…what?" Newkirk replied, sounding half-asleep.

Schultz shrugged. "Nevermind."

"Breakfast vill be served soon," said the doctor. "I have to make my rounds. If he does not vish to eat, try to make him."

They nodded at him, and he left the room.

Suddenly, Newkirk reopened his eyes. "Where did they go?"

"Who?" Hogan asked.

"Carter…LeBeau…they were just 'ere." He suddenly blinked, and his eyes roamed around the room. "Oh. It's daytime, now."

Schultz frowned. "Newkirk, are you saying that Carter and LeBeau were here in the night?"

"An' Kinch," Newkirk sleepily answered.

Schultz looked at Hogan. "Colonel, please tell me that he was dreaming…please tell me that Newkirk was dreaming!"

"Newkirk was dreaming."

Schultz wasn't fooled. He closed his eyes. "I am leaving this room _right_ _now_, so that I will not hear anything _else_ that I do not wish to know!" With that, he opened the door; just as a nurse holding a tray was about to come in. Schultz moved aside and watched as she set it on the nightstand, before wiggling his eyebrows at Hogan as he followed her out the door.

Hogan chuckled and took the bowl off the tray. "He's gone, Newkirk…_now_ would be the time to say things that he shouldn't hear."

Newkirk reopened his eyes. "Oh…'ey, Colonel," he said, as if he hadn't known that Hogan was there.

"Hey," Hogan said, before taking the cover off the bowl and finding porridge inside.

Newkirk blinked a few times. "Carter is worried."

Hogan nodded. "I don't blame him."

"Tell 'im there's no reason. I'm fine."

Hogan didn't bother to contradict him. "I will. Do you feel like eating?"

Newkirk blinked. "This thing is annoyin'," he said.

Hogan frowned, confused, before he realized that Newkirk was referring to the oxygen mask. He reached forward to adjust it, before changing his mind and removing it instead. "You can't eat with _that_ in the way," he said.

Newkirk took a few breaths that seemed too shallow for Hogan's liking. "I thought the problem was me 'ead…not me lungs."

Hogan nodded. "It's the morphine, Newkirk. Sometimes it can make the lungs not work well enough. Here, let's sit you up," he said, standing and moving closer.

Newkirk was still too loopy to cooperate, and remained limp as Hogan pulled him upright and fixed the pillows behind him.

"Bon appetit," Hogan said, handing over the bowl.

Newkirk looked at it, before taking the spoon and scooping some up, seeming uncoordinated. "Ugh…'e didn't put enough sugar."

"Who didn't?" Hogan asked, hoping he wouldn't get the answer that he suspected.

"LeBeau, who else?"

Hogan said nothing, watching as Newkirk took a few more bites before he stopped, closed his eyes, and gave a small, breathless cough.

Alarmed, Hogan picked up the oxygen mask and held it over his face. "You all right?"

The Englishman's eyes stayed closed. "Not...enough…air."

Hogan shook his head, thinking it unfair how a drug that worked such wonders for pain could cause life-threatening effects at the same time.

A minute passed, before Newkirk suddenly spoke. "When can I go 'ome?"

Hogan hesitated, not sure if he meant back to the Stalag, or back to England. "I don't know if you'll be released today," he said, looping the mask's cord around his friend's head to keep it in place. "If not, then we'll try to come visit you again tonight."

"Okay." With that, Newkirk dozed off.

Hogan took the bowl away and gently laid the Englishman down again.

A few minutes later, Schultz poked his head back in the door. When he saw that they were no longer talking about things that he knew 'nothing' about, he came into the room and sat back on his chair.

Time passed in silence, and soon, the hour that Klink had allotted them was up…plus twenty minutes.

Hogan and Schultz were quiet as they walked out the hospital door…the American wishing that he didn't have to leave Newkirk there for another day, and the German trying to think up a believable reason for being gone longer than they should have.

Neither of them noticed the two strange men staring at Colonel Hogan as they left…

TBC  
Just so everyone knows, all the stuff about morphine in this story is totally true; it can be a pretty risky/dangerous drug, especially in the old days.


	8. MAJOR Trouble

"He's back!"

Everyone looked up at Carter's excited voice. They crowded around him at the doorway, as Hogan got out of the car and came into the barracks.

"How's Newkirk, Colonel?" Carter asked. "Is he any better? Did he ask for us? Did—"

"Down, boy," Hogan said, motioning for everyone to move aside so he could officially enter.

Everyone hushed up and stepped away, watching as Hogan walked over to the stove.

"The best word to describe Newkirk right now is 'loopy'." Hogan told them.

A few chuckles answered his statement.

Carter didn't share in the amusement. "But is he okay? He doesn't still have the oxygen, does he?"

"Yes, he does, and probably will until they let him go. Morphine is tricky stuff, Carter."

The sergeant sighed, before opening his mouth to ask a question.

"Yes, we can go see him tonight," Hogan answered, clasping his shoulder.

Carter closed his mouth and gave a little smile.

Hogan took a gulp of his coffee before looking at Kinch. "What did London have to say?"

"Two words: 'find them'," said the radioman. "I spoke to the Underground, and they gave me the names of two new men who joined together recently: James and William Parker. They claim to be brothers."

Hogan shook his head with a humorless laugh. "If they're the right ones, then those are obviously fake names. Newkirk heard them speak German."

Kinch nodded. "The Underground is on the lookout for them…the address that the men gave turned out to not exist."

Hogan shook his head. "Figures."

"Uh oh!" someone suddenly said.

Everyone turned, to see that one of the other prisoners was looking out the window. Heading over to him, Hogan watched as a car pulled up, and Major Hochstetter climbed out and went into Klink's office.

"_That_ can't be good," Kinch said.

Hogan nodded at him before going into his quarters, with the other three following.

Kinch quickly set up the coffeepot, and they all listened.

_"Really, Major?"_ said Klink's voice. _"Did they find out anything?"_

_"Almost. A trap vas set, but Papa Bear never arrived,"_ Hochstetter answered. _"I vant you to vatch Hogan carefully! If he does anything suspicious, I vish to be informed immediately!"_

Klink gave a nervous laugh. _"Really, Major, a Prisoner of War, conducting sabotage from within a Stalag? A Stalag that has never had an escape, I remind you!"_

Hochstetter sighed. _"You are an idiot, Klink."_

Carter made a choked-laugh sound.

_"Might I remind you that I outrank you, Major!"_ Klink said, getting mad.

Hogan and the others exchanged glances. It was about time that their Kommandant told off that big-mouthed shrimp!

_"Might I remind you that I am Gestapo, Klink! I could have you shot as a collaborator!"_

Klink's attitude instantly changed. _"Yes sir. Would you like some schnapps? Some strudel?"_

_"Yes."_

A pause. _"Which one?"_

Hochstetter gave a long sigh, and the sound of stomping shoes told the Heroes that the Major had gone to the schnapps bottle himself.

_"I can have strudel for you within the hour!"_ Klink said, obviously trying to placate him. _"I can get the little Cockroach to make it for you with no problem."_

_"And vhat vould be the bribery tool?" _Hochstetter asked out of curiosity, though he didn't really want any.

Klink appeared to think_. "I could agree to let him visit Newkirk in the hospital! SCHULTZ!"_

_"Vhat?"_ said Hochstetter. _"Who is in the hospital?"_

_"Corporal Newkirk."_

_"The Englander? Vhat happened to him?"_

There was a plopping sound over the speaker, as if Klink had thrown his arms out, and they'd slapped his legs on the way back down. _"He had some kind of monstrous headache…I've barely ever seen anyone in such pain before. They called it a 'migraine'."_

_"Humm..."_

Carter and LeBeau looked at Hogan with alarm. They knew that tone _very_ well.

_"Vhen vas he sent there?"_

_"Yesterday morning."_

_"I imagine they have him on painkillers."_

_"Yes, morphine, they told me."_

Hochstetter's tone changed. _"Perfect! A man can tell some interesting secrets while under the influence of a drug like that."_ Boots could again be heard slapping the floor as Hochstetter walked over to the door.

Without a word, Hogan turned and ran out of his quarters, bolting out the barracks door and dashing to Klink's office. He collided with Hochstetter as the Major opened the door, and he walked inside, forcing everyone back in.

Hochstetter blinked at his sudden appearance. "Vhat is zis man doing here?" he exclaimed.

Hogan shook his head. "You say that almost every time you see me! I'm beginning to think that you don't like me, Major!"

Hochstetter's face turned red, and he pushed past them and out the door.

Klink followed, and Hogan rushed after them. "Colonel, I think I left my hat at the hospital, can Schultz bring me back there to get it?"

The others stopped. "You're vearing your hat, Hogan," Hochstetter said, his temper being forcefully reined in.

Hogan's eyes shifted upwards and he took it off. "Oh, you mean _this_ hat? It's my spare. The other one is my favorite."

Hochstetter walked forward. "I know exactly vhat you are trying to do, Hogan. You heard our conversation. Vell, I am telling you right now that you are NOT going back to that hospital today! _I_ am going there instead, and I vill interrogate Newkirk until he tells me exactly vhat I vish to know!"

"And what is it that you wish to know?" Hogan asked, stalling.

Hochstetter stepped closer again. "That _you_ are Papa Bear, and have been running a sabotage unit right under Klink's nose!"

"Well, you'll be waiting a long time, then. Newkirk isn't going to tell you something that isn't true," Hogan answered.

Hochstetter gave an evil laugh. "Ve shall see vhat he says, Hogan. Morphine has many effects; controlling pain is only _von _of them."

"Then I demand to go with you," Hogan said. "Under the Geneva Convention, the Senior POW Officer has the right to be present at every interrogation!"

"The Geneva Convention be _hanged!_" Hochstetter said. "Klink, if you let this man return to the hospital, I will personally put you on the next train to the Russian Front!" He turned around, walked to his car, and got inside.

Hogan looked at Klink, even though he knew that he couldn't do anything about the situation.

To his credit, the Kommandant gave him a sympathetic look.

Everyone watched as Hochstetter drove off. "It is times like this when I feel that I am on the wrong side of the war," Schultz said, probably louder than he intended.

Klink didn't react to the statement, to the sergeant's relief. "I will call the hospital, and tell them to inform me when Hochstetter leaves," Klink told Hogan. "That way, we can find out from the doctor Newkirk's…condition."

_His 'new' condition…after Hochstetter is done with him,_ Hogan knew he meant. "Thanks," he said, before walking away.

Klink watched Hogan go back inside his barracks, before he suddenly realized what Schultz had said. _Sometimes I feel the same way, _he thought.

TBC


	9. What are We Going to Do?

As Hochstetter drove, his thoughts reeled. _Can it be that Newkirk is Papa Bear, not Hogan?_ he thought. _That vould explain vhy Papa Bear never met the contacts…because he vas in the hospital! _He frowned. _If that is so, then Hogan allowed the suspicion to fall on himself all this time, to protect his subordinate?_ Hochstetter blinked. _Or __is__ Newkirk his subordinate? If Newkirk is Papa Bear, then he may not be a mere corporal…he could be a captain, or a colonel himself, or…_ Hochstetter tried to think of British ranks. _Either vay, he vould be a spy! He could even be Nimrod! _The realization almost made him slam on the brakes. _But no, Hogan's description has been given. Newkirk's hair is not as dark, I think. He is a little shorter, thinner…and he is too young to be a colonel. No, Hogan has to be Papa Bear…but then, vhy did he not meet his contacts…on the same night that Newkirk vould've been unable to go?_

Suddenly, he'd arrived at the hospital. "I vill discover the truth, right _now_!" he vowed, before getting out and storming up the steps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogan dashed over to the tunnel and shot down it, with the others following. "We have to call the hospital and warn Dr. Siegfried," he said.

Kinch dashed over to their switchboard and plugged in their phone, before handing it to Carter, who gave them an odd look.

Hogan never failed to be amazed at how easily Kinch could somehow read his mind. "Your German accent is better," Hogan told him.

Carter shrugged, a little shy at the compliment, as he held the phone to his ear and waited for the connection. "Hello," he said. "I need to speak to Dr. Siegfried immediately." He waited as the operator put him on hold. A minute later, he frowned. "Vhat? But zis is an emergency! Oh." He shot Hogan a helpless look. "Hold on please," he said, before covering the phone. "The doctor's performing surgery right now, Colonel!"

Hogan swore under his breath. "Ask when he should be finished."

"Vhen is he expected to finish?" Carter asked. "Oh." He covered the phone again. "She doesn't know!"

"This is bad…" LeBeau mumbled. "This is _very_ bad…"

"I'm gonna have to go over there," Hogan said, walking away.

"But you heard Hochstetter," Kinch said. "He said you aren't allowed to go back there today."

Carter looked at the phone. "Are you still there?" he asked. The operator was, so Carter covered it again and said, "Colonel?"

Hogan looked back at him and waved his hand to hang up. They couldn't leave a message for Siegfried to call them back…they didn't have a real phone number.

"Um, byebye," Carter said, before handing the phone back to Kinch. He shrugged when LeBeau rolled his eyes.

Hogan headed over to their German uniforms, before a sudden voice called out inside the barracks.

"Colonel Hogan!"

It was Schultz.

"Oh _great_," Hogan said. Heading towards the ladder, he dashed up it and waited until he heard the guard's footsteps head to where his quarters were, before throwing the tunnel open and climbing out.

Schultz poked his head out of Hogan's quarters just as Hogan materialized behind him, making him jump. "Colonel! Don't _do_ that to me!"

"Sorry, Schultz." Hogan walked over to his door and leaned against it, making Schultz turn around so the others could climb out of the tunnel without being seen.

"The Kommandant wants to see you," Schultz told him.

Hogan inwardly sighed. _We don't have time for this!_ "Oh, too bad, Schultz. I just decided to take a vacation."

Schultz made a stern face. "He wants to see you in his office right _now_!"

Hogan looked beyond him to the others, who watched worriedly. "Keep trying what we were doing."

Schultz frowned. "What were you doing?" He blinked. "No! Do _not_ tell me! Out, out!" he said, pushing Hogan ahead of him.

Hogan submitted, and took the guard by surprise by running across the camp.

"Colonel!" Schultz exclaimed.

Hogan wasn't in any mood to laugh, and dashed up the stairs to Klink's office. When he entered the room, he found Klink sitting at his desk.

The Kommandant looked up at him. "Hogan," he said. "What are we going to do?"

Hogan blinked. "Sir?"

Klink shook his head and stood, starting to pace. "Major Hochstetter is a ruthless man, you know this! What is Newkirk going to tell him?"

Hogan shook his head. "Nothing, Colonel."

Klink went *hrumph*. "This is an escape-proof camp, Hogan! I refuse to believe that you and your men come and go as you please…why would anyone leave and return again to a Prisoner of War camp? Major Hochstetter is wrong about that, he has to be. _But_…" He stopped pacing and shook his finger at the American. "You can't deny that some strange things have happened ever since you arrived…some of which you know about before they seem to happen!" Klink thought back to one particular time when Hogan had said something about a train blowing up, and five seconds later, it did. "I am not a dummkopf, Hogan, despite what Burkhalter and Hochstetter think! But it is not only _your_ lives that are on the line…it is also mine…and Schultz's, too."

Hogan said nothing. What could he say?

"Morphine," Klink said, with a sigh. "You saw Newkirk, how is the drug affecting his mind?"

Hogan winced at that.

"I thought so. He could say any number of things that Hochstetter can construe whichever way he wants to!" Klink plopped down back into his chair.

Hogan was quiet for a minute. "Let me go back to the hospital."

"I can't. You heard what Hochstetter said."

"Hochstetter won't recognize me."

Klink blinked at that. He opened his mouth to ask how, before realizing that Schultz had the right idea about wanting to know 'nothing'. "What could you possibly do to stop him?"

Hogan sighed. "I sure know what I _wish _I could do."

Klink echoed the sigh, seeming resigned to his fate. "I'm sorry, Hogan. I'm sorry…for _all _of us..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Vhat room is Corporal Peter Newkirk in?" Hochstetter asked at the front desk.

The receptionist looked through her paperwork. "Room 225."

Hochstetter walked away and found the stairs, quickly climbing them and entering the second floor. When he came upon room 225, he quietly entered, half-expecting Newkirk to have conveniently disappeared.

But no, a patient lay in the bed, with an oxygen mask covering the lower part of his face.

The Major walked into the room, seeing a nurse sitting in a nearby chair. "Vhat are you here for?"

The girl was startled at the sight of a Gestapo agent. "I vas told to sit vith the patient until the doctor returns."

Hochstetter nodded. "You can go."

The girl hesitated.

"Go!"

Jumping out of her seat, the nurse fled.

Hochstetter walked closer, and sat in the chair. With an evil grin, he leaned forward and looked at the sleeping patient. "Wake up, Corporal," he sneered. "I have some questions to ask you…"

TBC


	10. Too Far

Dr. Siegfried walked down the hall, having just left the operating room. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep since Newkirk had arrived at the hospital, as he felt that it was his duty to protect him. He knew that he needed some rest as soon as possible, though, and planned to drag a cot into Newkirk's room to grab a nap.

As he passed the receptionist's desk, she called out to him. "Dr. Siegfried! You have a call."

He turned and headed over, taking the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Dr. Siegfried?" he heard.

"Yes."

"The _real_ Dr. Siegfried?"

The doctor blinked. "The _only_ Dr. Siegfried, in _this_ hospital."

"Oh, good," the voice said, suddenly dropping the German accent. "Doc, you gotta get to Newkirk's room, Major Hochstetter from the Gestapo is on his way to question him! If Newkirk tells him _anything_, we're all sunk!"

A chill shot down Siegfried's spine. "I vill do vhat I can!" With that, he hung up and ran down the hall. _I vill give him a sedative,_ he thought. _That vay, he vill not vake up, and therefore cannot be questioned…_His thoughts came to a halt when he rushed into the room to find the Major already inside.

"Doctor," said the Major. "I need some information about zis man. Has he said anything suspicious, regarding sabotage activities and zee like?"

Siegfried pretended to be surprised. "Sabotage? No, he has said nothing of zee sort, and thanks to zee morphine, he mumbles quite a lot."

Hochstetter nodded, before looking back at Newkirk, just in time to see his eyes snap closed. "Aha, so you are awake, Corporal."

Newkirk's heartbeat had instantly sped up when he woke to the sound of the Major's voice, and he'd stared in shock, wondering if he was hallucinating. His brain felt foggy, and he'd re-closed his eyes a split second too late.

"Look at me, Corporal," Hochstetter said. "I have some questions for you."

Newkirk opened his eyes. "Well, I 'ave no answers," he said. He blinked, before waving a hand. "Can ya get that tree outta 'ere on ya way out?"

"Tree?" Hochstetter said, before looking around the room. "There is no tree in here, Corporal."

"Oh," Newkirk said, before closing his eyes again.

Hochstetter reached over and rudely shook him. "Tell me of Papa Bear."

"Who?"

"Papa Bear!"

"Oh," Newkirk said, eyes still closed. "I know all about 'im."

Siegfried's heart sank.

"Do you!" said Hochstetter, happily. "Tell me."

"Well," said Newkirk, sleepily. "There's this cottage in the woods…"

"Yes?" the Major said, excitedly. "And?"

"Well, Papa Bear lives in it."

Hochstetter frowned. "He lives in a cottage in the woods?"

"Right." Newkirk yawned behind the oxygen mask. "An' 'e lives with Mama Bear an' Baby Bear. One day, they made porridge, but it was too 'ot, so they decided to go for a walk—"

"Bah!" Hochstetter yelled. He stood up and leaned over the bed. "Do not play games with me, Corporal!"

"Games?" said Newkirk, reopening his eyes. "Are we playin' a game? Where's me deck of cards?" He blinked. "An' by the way, me name's not Corp—Crop—Cop…um, whatever ya said."

Hochstetter had to mentally count to ten before he could speak again. "Who is Papa Bear? Is it you? Is it Hogan?"

Newkirk blinked again. "Can't ya tell that we're not bears? We're men, just the same as you…I think."

Hochstetter wanted to bang his head against the wall. Suddenly, he noticed a syringe on the nightstand. "Is zis morphine?"

Reluctantly, Siegfried nodded.

Hochstetter grabbed the syringe and stabbed it into Newkirk's arm.

The Englishman gave a cry of shock and pain.

"No!" Siegfried exclaimed, dashing forward and grabbing it. Looking at the plunger, he saw that it was empty. "It vas not time for his next dose! You may just have signed his death certificate!"

"I highly doubt that a little extra morphine is enough to kill a man," Hochstetter replied, watching Newkirk, whose eyes turned very glassy before suddenly closing again.

"It has caused him serious side effects! Vhat do you think zee oxygen is for?" the doctor shot back, too upset to realize that he was currently yelling at a Gestapo agent. He grabbed his stethoscope to listen to Newkirk's heart.

Hochstetter had to admit—to himself, at least—that he might've gone too far. He didn't actually want to kill Newkirk…yet. If he truly was Papa Bear, he wanted him to be tortured, go on trial, and be tortured again before he shot him _himself_. There was nothing to do now but wait and see what happened.

"Corporal Newkirk," Hochstetter said.

No reply.

Hochstetter remembered that 'corporal' might not be his actual rank. "Newkirk."

Still no reply.

_Maybe that is not even his real name! _"Nimrod?" he tried.

Newkirk twitched.

Hochstetter's heart jumped in his chest. "Are you Nimrod?"

Newkirk said nothing.

"This is London," said Hochstetter, trying to drop his German accent and adopt an English one. "We have vital information to pass on."

Newkirk gave no reaction.

Hochstetter reached over and lightly shook him, before doing it again more roughly.

Siegfried grabbed onto Newkirk, in an effort to stop him. Sending Hochstetter a glare, he placed a hand on his patient's chest. "He's barely breathing."

Hochstetter growled before stepping away from the bed. He paced a few times before pointing at the doctor. "I vill not leave until I get zee answers I came for!"

"Vell, it looks like you just ruined your chance," Siegfried said. "You can't get answers out of an unconscious man!"

Hochstetter made another annoyed sound, and Siegfried suddenly got very scared at the implications of defying a Gestapo agent. "Forgive me, Herr Major, if I seem uncooperative. I am a doctor, and have a responsibility to my patients. Of course you have zee right to do your duty, and if I can assist in any way, it vould be my pleasure." As he spoke, he went back over to the oxygen machine and raised the percentage. _Please don't tell me to do anything to him, _he thought. _Please__…_

"All you can do for me at this point is keep him alive," Hochstetter said. He looked at his watch and appeared to think for a minute. "I vill be back."

_He's leaving! _Siegfried thought, with shocked relief. He watched as the Major walked out the door, before listening to Newkirk's heartbeat again.

"Doctor."

The sudden voice startled him, and he turned to see the receptionist standing in the doorway.

"Colonel Klink from Stalag Thirteen called earlier, asking to be informed when Major Hochstetter left."

Siegfried nodded. "Get a nurse in here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogan loitered outside Klink's office, waiting for Dr. Siegfried to call. When the phone rang, he looked expectantly at Helga.

"Please hold," she said. "It's the hospital!" she told Hogan.

He nodded and dashed into Klink's office.

The Kommandant looked up, annoyed at the interruption, and opened his mouth to voice his displeasure.

Hogan cut him off. "The hospital is on the line," he said, picking up the phone.

Klink grabbed it out of his hand. "Hello, this is Colonel Klink. Yes, I asked to be informed of the actions that Major Hochstetter took…he _what_?"

Hogan frowned, and a knot grew in his stomach.

Klink listened, shocked at what the doctor was telling him. He looked up at Hogan's face, and saw how desperately he wanted to know what had happened. "All right, keep me posted," he finally said, before hanging up.

"What did he do?" Hogan urgently asked.

Klink told him, and wasn't surprised at all when the American nearly hit the roof.

"He could've killed him! Newkirk could be dying as we speak!" Hogan paced back and forth, before leaning forward on Klink's desk. "Kommandant, you have to do something before he goes back there!"

"What _can_ I do, Hogan!" Klink whined. "He threatened me!"

"You can call General Burkhalter, and tell him that Hochstetter is abusing your prisoners!"

Realization dawned on Klink's face. "Yes…yes, Hogan, _that_ I can do!" He picked up the phone. "Get me General Burkhalter in Berlin…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, an enraged Hochstetter slammed down the phone, his ear ringing thanks to the shouting done by Burkhalter, who'd had quite a lot to say to him. He wasn't surprised that Klink had gotten the General involved, after what he'd done to the English corporal. _But Burkhalter doesn't understand, _Hochstetter thought. _I must find out the truth!_ With a sigh, he made a fist. "This is not over, Hogan," he said, aloud. "This is _not_ over."

TBC


	11. Huh?

Dr. Siegfried was exhausted, having had little sleep since Newkirk's arrival at the hospital. He considered it his personal responsibility to ensure the Englishman's safety…not for his profession's sake, but for the sake of Papa Bear's entire outfit.

He'd dragged a cot into the room to lie on, and wasn't surprised at all when the door opened just after eleven pm.

"Doc?"

Opening his eyes, he found Colonel Hogan standing in the room, wearing a doctor's lab coat. He was looking at Newkirk.

"Is he okay?"

Siegfried sat up, and sighed. "He woke once, but not for long, and was not very aware."

Hogan nodded and went back to the door, opening it and letting in the other three 'doctors'. It seemed apparent that the colonel had told the others to control themselves, for they walked in slowly and quietly, even as intense worry showed in their eyes.

"Will he be all right?" Carter asked, sitting on the side of Newkirk's bed.

"I believe so," Siegfried told them. "The overdose depressed his breathing further, and lowered his blood pressure a little too much, but both have slightly improved since then, since some of the drug has vorn off by now. I vill not be giving him anymore morphine."

Hogan looked at him. "What do you have in mind?"

Dr. Siegfried hesitated. "Possibly releasing him tomorrow," he said, with obvious reluctance.

Hogan was surprised. "So soon, after _this_?"

Siegfried sighed. "I do not think he should still be here, in case Major Hochstetter comes back, or those two men."

"But will he be recovered enough, especially after the overdose?"

"Vhen the rest of the morphine vears off, there vill only be a residual amount left in his system, and so he vill no longer require the oxygen. He vill need to rest for a few days, but should be fine after that."

"But what if he still has his migraine?" Carter asked.

"If he still does after the morphine vears off, I vill try aspirin. The pain should be sufficiently improved enough by then for a milder drug to handle."

Everyone nodded. While they were glad that Newkirk might be coming 'home' the next day, none of his friends could deny that he looked helpless and frail lying in that hospital bed.

Hogan's gaze shifted, and he suddenly noticed something. Reaching out, he put his hand on Newkirk's right arm, touching his finger to tiny wound that was surrounded by a small bruise. Looking at the doctor, he asked a silent question.

Siegfried nodded.

Hogan's anger nearly boiled over, at the visible proof of what Hochstetter had so ruthlessly done. He clasped Newkirk's wrist and held on tightly, as if to lend support to his friend, but it unexpectedly backfired when he became aware of the Englishman's pulse: racing, due to the unsafe level of morphine rushing through his bloodstream.

Newkirk's hand suddenly twitched, and Hogan realized that his grip on the corporal's wrist had tightened uncomfortably, in response to his anger at Hochstetter. He loosened his hold and leaned closer. "Newkirk?" he said, hoping that he was awake.

Newkirk made no sound, but his eyes fluttered.

Siegfried came closer and listened to his patient's heartbeat. "Peter? If you are awake, ve vould like to see you."

Newkirk seemed to hear him, moving his head slightly.

Carter and LeBeau threw in their own pleas, and were eventually rewarded with a glimpse of their friend's green eyes.

"Hey buddy!" Carter exclaimed. "How do you feel?"

Newkirk blinked up at him, with a puzzled look. "Huh?"

"How do you feel?"

"Feel what?"

Carter smiled. "No no, not something you're feeling, how are _you_ feeling?"

"Huh?"

Hogan looked up at Siegfried. "Is this how he was with Hochstetter?"

Siegfried looked at him with a smile. "Yes."

Hogan had to cover his mouth with one hand to stop himself from laughing. _It must've driven Hochstetter insane! _He suddenly realized that Newkirk's nonsensical answers must've been the reason why Hochstetter had given him the extra morphine, and his smile vanished.

Everyone suddenly turned quiet, as Newkirk's eyes roamed around the room. He seemed to be seeing everything, but nothing. "Where am I?" he asked, though it sounded more like "Where'my?"

"At the hospital in Hammelberg, mon ami," LeBeau said, smiling comfortingly, though it unnerved him to see Newkirk so out-of-it.

Newkirk opened his mouth to ask 'why', before seeming to remember.

"Does your head hurt?" Carter asked.

"No."

Everyone was relieved to hear that.

Newkirk closed his eyes for a few seconds, before they popped open and he craned his neck to see beyond his friends. "Did 'e take it?"

Everyone turned to look behind themselves, before moving aside so Newkirk could see whatever it was he was trying to find. "Take what?"

"The tree!"

Everyone looked back at Newkirk, dumbfounded. "Tree?" Kinch asked.

Newkirk pointed with an unsteady hand. "The ruddy thing 'as been standin' there all day! I told Hof—Hos—Hopsteffer to take it wit' 'im when 'e left."

Carter let loose a loud giggle, before slapping both hands across his mouth.

Everyone stared at Newkirk for a few seconds, using all the willpower they contained to not let themselves openly react to the unexpected comment.

Hogan stood from his chair and walked towards the wall, in the direction where Newkirk was still pointing. "That one?" he said, gesturing to the empty space beside the door.

"Yeah," said Newkirk. "I'm sick of it starin' at me."

Carter almost lost it there, and had to turn his head so Newkirk wouldn't notice his face turning red from suppressed laughter.

Hogan bent down and pretended that he was lifting the 'tree', before heading out the door and coming back in a second later. "There, Newkirk. It's gone."

The Englishman smiled. "Thanks, guv, what a relief." He laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

A couple of minutes passed, and they realized that Newkirk had fallen asleep again.

Something suddenly occurred to Hogan. "After he gets back to the Stalag, will he need any special care?" he whispered.

"There vill still be some morphine in his bloodstream," Siegfried whispered back. "So he should drink a lot of water, and eat good meals. He has not been avake long enough to eat or drink much at all." He pointed to the IV. "The majority of his nourishment has come from zat."

Hogan nodded, and gestured towards LeBeau. "Our resident chef will make sure he eats like a king."

"_Oui_, that I will!" the Frenchman replied.

A couple of hours passed, before Hogan stood, to leave. "I know you'd all like to stay," he said. "But we need to get back. Newkirk might be coming home tomorrow, so it won't be much longer before you see him again."

Everyone nodded, reluctantly.

Hogan shook the doctor's hand, before everyone silently filed out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

During roll call the next morning, Carter and LeBeau couldn't stay still, fidgeting in their excitement to get Newkirk back from the hospital.

Hogan followed Klink into his office, the Kommandant not even noticing that he was behind him. Klink walked around his desk and sat down, jumping in his chair when he found Hogan seated on the other side.

"Can you call the hospital?" Hogan asked.

Klink sighed and picked up the phone, obediently dialing. They informed him that Newkirk would be released at noon, and both Hogan _and_ Klink were relieved to hear that.

"Hochstetter didn't succeed!" Klink happily exclaimed.

Hogan nodded, snatching a cigar. "Glad I thought of it!"

Klink opened his mouth to take back the credit, before he realized that Hogan was right.

TBC

Nope, it's not over yet! ;)


	12. Detour

Newkirk opened his eyes and lay quietly, blinking as he looked around the room. He had the vague sense that time had passed, and couldn't figure out what day it was. A noise to the right startled him, and he craned his head to see what had caused it.

"Hello, Peter," said a voice. Dr. Siegfried walked over and sat in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

This time, Newkirk understood the question. "Fuzzy," he said.

Siegfried nodded, leaning over to listen to his heart. "Not surprising. You had a rough time."

Newkirk frowned. Bits and pieces of different scenes played in his mind, and he tried to make sense of it all. "I did? 'ow long 'ave I been 'ere?"

"This is the third day."

"Three days!"

"You will be leaving in an hour or two," Siegfried said. "How does your head feel?"

Newkirk blinked. "It 'urts."

The doctor frowned. "How badly?"

Newkirk started to remember. "Not near as bad as it did. Blimey, that was me worst one yet!"

Siegfried patted his shoulder as he went to get some aspirin. "It will soon be gone, do not vorry." He came back and set them on the table, before reaching down to help his patient sit up.

Newkirk tried to do it under his own power, but felt unexpectedly weak. _Guess that's what 'appens after lyin' in a bed an' not movin' for three days,_ he thought. He suddenly noticed that something was sitting on his face, and realized that it was an oxygen mask. He reached up and took it off, finding that he was taking shorter breaths than he should be. "What's this for?" he asked, nervously.

Siegfried explained it to him, as Newkirk swallowed the aspirin.

"Blimey," he said, again.

Siegfried wondered if Newkirk remembered what had happened with Hochstetter, but rather than ask, he called for the nurse, to get the patient something to eat.

Newkirk found that he wasn't really hungry…his stomach didn't quite feel right, so he mostly picked at the porridge that she brought.

"You must eat," said the doctor. "You need to regain your strength."

Instead, Newkirk frowned, as if he was thinking. He suddenly dropped the spoon and looked up. "Did I succeed? Is the Colonel safe?"

Siegfried nodded. "Yes, you found him before those imposters could capture him."

Newkirk suddenly remembered the walk back to the hospital—with Hogan beside him—and sighed with relief. He suddenly saw a flash in his head of a familiar man in an SS uniform, but before he could say anything, the door opened.

"Newkirk!" Schultz spoke before Hogan even had a chance. "Oh, it is so good to see you awake!"

The Englishman smiled. "Hiya, Schultzie. It's good to _be_ awake…seems like I missed a lot."

_You were there, but too loopy to know what was going on, _Hogan thought. "We'll fill you in later. How do you feel?"

Newkirk shrugged. "I don't rightly know…I guess the right word would be 'drained'. At least me 'ead doesn't 'urt near as much as it did."

Hogan smiled. "_That's_ a relief." He looked at the doctor. "How long before he's ready to go?"

"As soon as he finishes that porridge."

"Aw, Doc," Newkirk said. "I really don't want it. It's nowhere near as good as ol' Louis makes it." He looked at Hogan. "Don't tell 'im I said that."

Hogan smiled again. "Your secret's safe with me."

Siegfried gave in once he heard that LeBeau was making Newkirk's favorite soup back at camp, and ten minutes later, the Englishman was dressed and free of the IV. The doctor and Hogan helped him slowly stand up, aware that he'd likely be dizzy upon standing, after being bedridden for three days.

Newkirk blinked furiously. "Ya weren't wrong about that, Doc."

"Just take it easy for a few days," Siegfried said. "Colonel Hogan vill tell you everything you need to know."

Hogan knew exactly what he meant.

Newkirk frowned. "Tell me what?"

Schultz laughed. "You were very—what was the word you used, Colonel? Ah! 'Loopy'! You were very loopy, Newkirk, some of the things you said were so funny!"

Newkirk sensed that his 'loopiness' wasn't what the doctor meant.

"Thanks for everything," Hogan said, shaking Siegfried's hand.

"Anytime," Siegfried said. He handed Newkirk a bottle of aspirin.

Newkirk smiled and put it in his pocket. "Thanks, Doc."

Siegfried patted his shoulder, and watched as they left the room.

It felt weird to be walking after being in bed for three days, Newkirk noticed, but he was extremely glad to be leaving.

Hogan was just as glad. Suddenly Newkirk stumbled, and Hogan grabbed his arm. "Whoa, easy there."

"Almost tripped over the tree," Newkirk said.

Hogan looked behind himself at the empty air, before staring at Newkirk in shock.

Newkirk smiled, and Hogan realized that he'd been joking.

The day was bright and sunny, and it was like a balm to Newkirk's mind. He took a deep breath of the fresh air as they walked down the steps, to the stalag's truck.

"I seem to remember the Colonel mentionin' stoppin' at a pub on the way back," Newkirk said, after he climbed in.

Schultz chuckled. "That is all I need…Mr. Big Shot hears about it and I get sent to the Russian Front!"

"We would never allow that, Schultz," Hogan told him. His firm tone showed that he was serious, and Schultz fully believed him.

They'd driven for six or seven miles, when suddenly, two men jumped out into the road ahead of them, pointing guns.

"Was ist los!" Schultz exclaimed, jamming on the brakes.

Hogan automatically grabbed Newkirk's arm, looking at him and then back to the men in the road. "Is that them, Newkirk?"

The Englishman squinted, trying to remember. He'd been out-of-it when the men had come into his hospital room, and didn't really get a good look at their faces. "It must be," he said, as the men came closer and motioned everyone out of the car.

"What is the meaning of this!" Schultz exclaimed.

"It is time to rid the Fatherland of Papa Bear!" one of the men answered, in German.

Newkirk and Hogan looked at each other.

Both men walked over to the prisoners, and one of them pushed Hogan away, from where he'd moved in front of Newkirk.

"You know exactly what I just said," the man said in German, before cocking the gun and shoving it under Newkirk's chin. "Nice to meet you, Papa Bear. I'm James. Or at least, that's what the Underground thinks."

Newkirk said nothing, ignoring the cold metal pressed against his skin. To someone who didn't know him, he appeared nonchalant, but Hogan knew that the Englishman was thinking, 'Come up with a plan quick, Colonel!'

Hogan's mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this…he opened his mouth to tell the men that Newkirk wasn't Papa Bear, but realized that if he did, he'd be proving the men right that he and Newkirk understood German. "Hey!" he said instead. "What do you think you're doing?"

Schultz couldn't believe what he was seeing. He pulled out his own gun, which the two men hadn't taken, assuming him to be loyal to _them_. "Put the guns down, right now!" he exclaimed.

Both men looked at Schultz in shock. "Put down _your_ gun, Sergeant! These men are the enemy!"

"No!" Schultz exclaimed. "They are Prisoners of War at Stalag Thirteen, and are under my protection!"

In a flash, James suddenly shifted behind the Englishman and grabbed him in a chokehold. "This is going to end one of two ways!" he answered. "Either these two men come with us, or this one ends up dead!"

Hogan stared at Newkirk, who looked like he couldn't take much abuse. He'd become paler, and looked very tired. Hogan could only pray that the Englishman wouldn't suffer a relapse after this.

Suddenly, Hogan noticed that the other man had his gun trained on Schultz, not him. James also was looking at the Stalag guard, having said something else that Hogan hadn't noticed while his mind plotted. There was only one thing to do. He caught Newkirk's eye, and sent him a look that he knew he'd be able to interpret, before he suddenly lunged at the other man, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around.

The gun went flying.

At the same time, Newkirk elbowed James in the stomach, which made the German's grip around his neck weaken. He tried to grab the gun, but James was ready for that, and latched onto it with both hands.

Hogan punched the other man, who fell on the ground and lay, unmoving. Hogan turned to Newkirk, to see him and James struggling for the gun. Before he had a chance to take a step, a sudden gunshot sounded behind him and he whirled, in time to see the now sitting-up German fall over again…dead this time.

In shock, Hogan saw that the dead man had found his gun, and had attempted to shoot him in the back. Looking at Schultz, Hogan realized that he'd shot the man, and saved his life.

Meanwhile, James and Newkirk had exchanged blows…James mostly, since Newkirk wasn't at full strength and was concentrating on keeping his hold on the gun. He tried to wrench it out of James' grasp, and they both ended up on their knees.

James threw his body against Newkirk, knocking him onto his side. At that moment, the shot that Schultz fired echoed through the street, but neither man reacted, as they wrestled for the gun.

Suddenly, another shot split the air, and their struggle abruptly ended.

TBC

*Runs away from lynch mob.* Sorry for the rotten cliffhanger! LOL


	13. Home Sweet Home

Hogan quickly ran over to where Newkirk and James lay in the street…neither man moving. "Newkirk! Newkirk!" he fearfully exclaimed, throwing himself to his knees and grabbing the Englishman, turning him onto his back. Seeing the blood that covered Newkirk's clothes, Hogan's heart sank as he quickly began searching for a wound.

Green eyes suddenly opened, and Newkirk flinched. "Lay off, guv…I'm all right," he said.

Hogan looked into his face. "Are you sure?"

"_This_ man was shot, Colonel Hogan," said Schultz, who was examining James. "That is not Newkirk's blood!" He said it very happily.

Hogan closed his eyes and sighed with relief, before reopening them and studying Newkirk, who was breathing heavily. "Are you hurt? How's your head?"

The Englishman raised a hand to his eyes, to shield them from the sun. "Not really…I just…need a moment…" He didn't answer the second question.

Hogan nodded and shifted his position in an effort to block the sunlight.

Newkirk lowered his hand and tried to take deep breaths, his lungs still slightly affected by the side effects of the morphine.

Hogan recognized his trouble, and made Newkirk stay put until his breathing returned to normal.

Schultz paced nervously, hovering over them until he was sure that the Englishman was all right, before he went over to the bodies and started dragging them out of the street and into the woods.

"What are we gonna do about this, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, as Hogan helped him sit up.

Hogan sighed. "At the moment, I have _no _idea."

The German guard came back over to them, and knelt, to be at eye-level. "We cannot leave those bodies here, Colonel Hogan! I cannot tell the Kommandant what has happened! He will ask too many questions of which I know nothing!" He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if contradicting the 'nothing'. "You know that if I mention 'Papa Bear', Major Hochstetter will be at the camp faster than I can say 'apple strudel'!"

Newkirk looked at Hogan, realizing that Schultz now knew without doubt their Underground identity.

"You can get rid of the bodies, I am sure?" Schultz said, in a pleading voice.

Hogan nodded. "Yeah, Schultz, we can."

Schultz closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. "Good! Come, we must go now!" He stood and reached down to help Newkirk up, before suddenly remembering the blood all over him. "Colonel Hogan! Newkirk's clothes! When the Kommandant sees that—!"

"Don't worry, Schultz. We can do something about that too," Hogan told him.

Everyone piled back into the car, and drove off.

Schultz didn't know how Hogan planned to remedy Newkirk's bloodied clothes, and didn't expect the American to eventually have him stop the car.

Hogan helped Newkirk take off his jacket, before saying, "I'll be right back, Schultz," and opening the door.

"Where are you going!"

"To get Newkirk another jacket."

Schultz blinked. "Where?"

Hogan smiled. "Don't ask. Remember, you know 'nothing'!" With that, he disappeared.

Schultz watched him hurry into the woods. "Ohhh…if anyone, _anyone_ knew what I know…or rather, what I _don't_ know…!"

Newkirk chuckled. "Don't let it bother ya, Schultzie. We'd never let anythin' 'appen to ya, 'specially on account of us."

Schultz sighed. "I believe you, Newkirk, but it is still very frightening to be in my position!"

Newkirk nodded. "I know. Why do ya think we give ya so much chocolate?"

Schultz chuckled at that.

A few minutes later, Hogan came back carrying a clean RAF jacket.

"What did the others say?" Newkirk asked.

"They didn't know I was there. I found this jacket in the tunnel." He helped Newkirk put it on, buttoning it for him to cover up the blood on his shirt.

Newkirk couldn't help but grin. "No wonder they call you 'Papa Bear'."

Hogan returned the smile.

"We are back!" Schultz suddenly exclaimed, pulling through the gate to Stalag Thirteen. "What a relief!"

All the prisoners were outside, waiting to see Newkirk. Everyone had been concerned, with most of the prisoners knowing that many Allied soldiers went into a German hospital, and never came out again.

A cheer rose up when Newkirk climbed out of the car, and he waved his hand at everyone, before Hogan and their friends herded him inside Barracks Two.

Carter unashamedly gave Newkirk a big hug. "I was afraid we'd never see you again!" he exclaimed.

Newkirk was slightly surprised, before patting his friend on the back. "Oh Andrew, ya 'ad to know that ol' Newkirk can get 'imself outta anythin'."

"Yeah," Carter answered, though he still sounded worried.

LeBeau launched himself at Newkirk after Carter let go. "Mon ami! You gave us such a scare! Lie down, and I will bring you some soup!"

Newkirk chuckled, and headed towards the table instead. "Lyin' down for three days was long enough." Right after he sat, a huge bowl appeared before him. He picked up the spoon and looked at Hogan. "The guv 'as some good news," he said, taking a bite.

Before Hogan could say anything, the door opened and Klink came in. "Corporal Newkirk," he said. "I see that you have returned!"

_What a silly question! _"I 'ave indeed, sir. It's good to be 'ome."

"Glad to hear it!" Klink said, and sat across from him at the table, slightly surprising everyone. "Now…Major Hochstetter went to the hospital and asked you some questions—"

Newkirk, having forgotten most of what had gone on while under the influence of the morphine, dropped his spoon when he heard that.

"Colonel," Hogan interrupted. "Newkirk just got out of the hospital and still doesn't feel well. Can't your questions wait?"

Klink was angry at being cut off, and sent the American a glare. "Hogan! _I_ am in charge of this camp! If I choose to ask a prisoner a question, you have no right to stop me!"

Newkirk unwittingly—or maybe purposely—made a soft pained sound, and rubbed the left side of his head.

"Shhh!" Hogan said to Klink. "You see?" He put a hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "Would you like to lie down, Newkirk?"

"I think I should, Guv," Newkirk replied, playing along. He started to stand, before Klink spoke.

"Is that blood?"

Newkirk froze, and sat back down again. Looking down, he could see a small stain on his shirt sticking out from the top of his jacket.

"That's from his IV," Hogan quickly said. "The nurse who removed it made him bleed." He looked at Newkirk. "Did you get her name? We should report her clumsiness."

Newkirk blinked slowly, trying to appear as unwell as possible. "What'd ya say, guv?"

Hogan tsked. "Could you come back a little later, Colonel?" he said. "He'd be better able to answer your questions then. The morphine isn't completely out of his bloodstream, so he keeps losing focus."

Klink sighed and nodded, reluctantly. "Fine, fine." He stood and came around the table, unexpectedly bending over and looking Newkirk in the face, making the Englishman flinch. "Yes, he really should lie down! I'll be back later." With that, he left.

"Blood?" Carter exclaimed, not believing Hogan's explanation for a second.

"Colonel!" Newkirk exclaimed, at the same time. "Major 'ochstetter _did_ show up at the 'ospital, an' asked me questions! Did I tell him anythin'?"

Hogan sat beside him on the bench and grabbed his arm. "No, Newkirk, you didn't tell him a single thing."

Newkirk blinked. "Are ya sure?"

Hogan nodded. "You drove him crazy, but you didn't give him any of the answers that he wanted."

Newkirk closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. "That's a relief, then." He reopened his eyes with a frown. "Drove 'im crazy? An' 'ow exactly did I do that?"

"_Blood?_" Carter said again, moving closer and reaching for Newkirk's jacket, pulling at it in order to see better. He gave a sound of alarm before unbuttoning his friend's jacket and laying it wide open, displaying the stain that covered most of his shirt.

At the gasps of shock from the others, Hogan told them what had happened on the way back.

"We're rid of the two imposters!" LeBeau exclaimed. "That is _magnifique_!

"As long as the Underground grabs those bodies before the Germans find them," Kinch said, looking at Hogan.

The Colonel nodded and gestured over his shoulder at the tunnel entrance, which Kinch headed towards.

"But what about Schultz?" Carter said. "I mean, I know that he looks the other way a lot, but this time, he has real—I mean, _really_ real!—proof!"

Hogan sighed. "Just remember, Carter, if he tells, he gets into just as much trouble as we do, especially since he's been looking the other way for so long."

"We don't 'afta worry about Schultzie," Newkirk said, between bites. "Ya forget that 'e also cares about us, an' doesn't want us to get in trouble."

"That's true," said Carter. "What would we do without him?" His face suddenly registered shock. "Wow! Who'd've thought we'd ever say something like that about a German prison guard?"

Hogan nodded. "Yeah, we really got lucky."

"What if it's not just luck?" said Carter. "Could you imagine if he was actually on our side or something, and we didn't know it?" He laughed. "What if _he_ was Nimrod, or something! Could you imagine?"

"Oh, Andrew," said Newkirk, rolling his eyes as he finished his soup. He started to remove his jacket, and Carter reached over to help.

LeBeau opened the Englishman's footlocker, to get him a clean shirt, and when he stood again, he accidentally bumped Newkirk's back.

Newkirk gasped and flinched, his body jerked forward away from the Frenchman.

LeBeau frowned. "What happened?"

Newkirk reached behind himself to rub his back. "Ya bumped me where the doctor stuck me with 'is ruddy needle."

"Sorry!" LeBeau exclaimed.

Hogan folded his arms and leaned against the bunks, watching with a smile as the other two fussed over their friend.

"Carter," Newkirk said, "I don't need _'elp_—" His last word was cut off when the American pulled the shirt over his head. They found that the German's blood had also seeped into the Englishman's t-shirt, so they took that off him too.

LeBeau leaned down to look at his friend's back. "Oh, _mon ami_, I am so sorry!"

Hogan and Carter both took a peek, to see a nasty purple bruise in the middle of Newkirk's lower back.

"S'okay, mate," Newkirk said, not wanting LeBeau to feel guilty. He reached for the t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

Carter helped him finish dressing, and LeBeau took the empty bowl. "I will get you some more!"

Newkirk wasn't sure if he could eat a second bowl, but he couldn't refuse his worried friend. "So 'ow did I drive 'ochstetter crazy?" he asked.

"How _didn't_ you drive him crazy?" said Kinch, coming back upstairs. "We're all set, Colonel."

Hogan nodded at him, before telling Newkirk what Siegfried had said…and what Hochstetter had subsequently done.

Newkirk, shocked, paused with his spoon in the air. He put it back into the bowl and pulled up his sleeve, to see the small bruise left behind by Hochstetter's violence. "The ruddy kraut coulda killed me!"

Everyone quietly nodded.

The Englishman's frown slowly turned into a smile. "Still, now I remember 'is face turnin' red from what I was sayin'! Since I'm still alive, I guess it was worth it!" He put the spoon back into the soup, to find that there was only a little bit of broth left. Surprised that he'd managed to eat the whole second bowl, he picked it up and drank the rest.

LeBeau took the empty bowl from him with a smile.

"Thanks, Louis," Newkirk said. He gave a yawn.

"I think you should get some rest," Hogan said. He took Newkirk's arm and led him over to Carter's bunk, helping him lie down.

Newkirk let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"How's your head?" Carter asked.

"Doesn't 'urt too much," Newkirk told him. "I'm sure I'll be right as rain in the mornin'."

Everyone smiled at him.

"We were really scared, you know," Carter told him.

Newkirk opened his eyes. "Sorry about that. I 'ave to say, though, that I'm glad this 'appened."

"What?" everyone replied.

Newkirk smiled. "I was in the right place at the right time, mates. If I wasn't in that 'ospital room that day, we would never 'ave known that the agents that ya were meetin' that night were spies," he said, looking at Hogan.

Hogan nodded.

"So, if it didn't 'appen, the Colonel wouldn't be 'ere right now…in fact, none of us would."

Everyone realized that he was right; if Hogan had been captured, Hochstetter would've had the proof that he needed, and Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau—at the very least—would've been killed too.

"Wow," Carter said.

Newkirk nodded. "That's an understatement."

"But it's more than that," said Hogan. "Despite how…_loopy_…you were, Newkirk, you managed to get to the contact site and warn me. Did I say 'thank you' yet?"

Newkirk tried to think. "I'm not sure, guv."

Hogan crouched beside the bunk and patted Newkirk's shoulder with a smile. "Thanks, Newkirk. You're always there when we need you."

Newkirk smiled back. "An' I always _will_ be, guv."

THE END  
OMG I finished it! This was intended to be a _short_ story…like, two or three thousand words…and look what it turned into! Make sure you all tell me how much you enjoyed reading it! ROTFL! ;)


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